Over the course of this week, our respective cities have been transformed and subjected to changes that are almost alien to us.
We started this week off with a winter wonderland. Snow came falling hard and fast, coating the otherwise mixture of colours into pure white. It brightens the world, even on a darker, cloudy day it looks like the world is shining. It’s not just children, coming out of their homes with thick scarves, mittens and a wonderous expression on their face as they gather it all up and turn it into a snowman. I’ve seen adults too. Sneaking out in the evening hours when all of the kids are asleep, and making their own, away from prying eyes, but with a similar newfound childlike innocence.
While snow isn’t that alien to us, it is something that doesn’t tend to fall in these quantities. Usually it’s instant drab, or it barely coats the grass, let alone the slightly warmer pavements and roads. For there to be this much snow here, enough for multiple snowmen being put on display, that is rare here.
It’s a change, a transformation.
And with it comes absolute chaos. We’re not used to this, this is such a big change, what do we do now? The land falls into chaos. Instantly we have alarm codes flying out. It started with a subtle yellow – people, bear in mind it might be a little slippery outside. The more the snow keeps falling, the faster that colour changes into orange, if you’re not mobile, or you have the opportunity to stay home, you might want to take it. To a full blown red alert, stay inside. Companies close, schools quit early, public transportation tries but eventually had to call it quits. Even highways were shut down. It took people 4 hours over a 20 minute commute, lorries were sprawled sideways over roads, losing grip, getting stuck. Even my 10 minute commute from work to home took 40 minutes, walking through strong winds, which turns the sweet, delicate, dainty snowflakes into shards of glass.
An idea, like a snowflake, is wonderful, brings a smile to our faces. It makes us ponder it in awe, mold it together to take the shape of a figurative snowman. It works, it’s fun, we’re squealing with joy like the children we get to be when a good, new idea comes together… Then there’s the aftermath. It’s not nearly as noticeable as slipping on the icy, slippery slosh that the snow leaves behind, and sometimes, these chaotic changes are ones we only notice until long after. We realise that to make our idea work, to bind a group of people together that work brilliantly, we have left a few out, wondering aimlessly to try and figure out where they belong now?
We break up marriages because one of the two comes to life a lot more with the other, but we forget the first spouse. What becomes of them when all is said and done? We change the story of one, but leave the other hanging in the chaotic aftermath.
But as always, when the sun comes out from behind the thick, snow filled clouds, the snow starts dissolving again. We can walk with firm steps without having to worry about landing on our butts in the most ungracious manner, the roads are free, open and cleared. We may have lost the snow, the thick layer of glistening fun and laughter… But this years’ snowman has been made, we all got to be a child again, hurling snowballs are unsuspecting colleagues as they wandered by, and our holiday spirits have been renewed. The chaos has died down, but the memories remain.
With every big change in our writing, in our world. The chaos will die down, we will look to our different characters and find out what they need… and in the end, everything will be all the better for it.
– Charlotte
Charlotte and Clara 