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There is nothing better than a snow day.
I woke with that special sense, as if a blanket had been placed over me. The sounds were muffled, the air still, even through my thick walls I could tell it had snowed overnight. I’m glad you came today, my dear, and I’m pleased there is such a stunning display for us to admire. I don’t go outside as much as I’d like between Christmas and New Year as it’s usually too dismal, but I wouldn’t dream of staying inside after a snowfall. Something about it brings out the child in me.
Thank you for coming to see me today. I know it’s a break from our usual routine and I thought it might unsettle me. I like to get into a rhythm, you see, but it also means a lot to me that you’d come here, when I know a young girl like you must have plenty of other offers. Now, I must go slowly I’m afraid, I hope you’re not in a rush, but I need to take the time that needs to be taken. I don’t want a broken leg now, do I? I’ve reached that point in life where I wouldn’t have fallen over, I’d have had a fall. Thankfully, it isn’t slippery underfoot yet, and I love the crunching sound the snow-crust makes as it breaks underneath my boot. I find it highly satisfying to be the first to walk here after the snow has fallen.
Are you excited for the new year, my dear? 1999, I can hardly believe it, it was supposed to be the year of the party, if my musical memory serves me correctly. The coming of the new millennium is a big deal, I know, though one I’ve refused to think too much about until now. And I don’t mean that Y2K thing that I don’t really understand. No, please don’t try to explain it again, I’ve more important things to worry about. The turn of the year does make me more reflective, and I’ve some more stories I’d like to share with you. Some of my deeper secrets, some of my darker moments. I’ve already revealed a lot and, as I feel so much lighter for having done so, I’d like to continue, if you’d like to keep listening, my dear.
Have you noticed how the sun always shines after it has snowed? When it rains, sometimes the sun comes out, but as often it stays grey and miserable, the weather hanging around like an unwanted house guest. There is something about snow that seems to bring the sun along in its wake. White fields, backdropped by blue skies, with weak winter sunshine reaching through. The air is peaceful, its composure adds calmness and clarity to our view, as if the air’s tranquillity means the lines of trees on the horizon have sharpened. I could gaze over the fields all day. The birds are still here but they’re harder to spot as they aren’t moving, not unless they must. Even the crows are staying as still as they can. As if we pressed pause. Probably best they rest and reserve their energy, wait the weather out.
It seems to have become folklore that the next thousand years will somehow be different from the last thousand years. Absolute poppycock. Granted, this year is different to twenty years ago, and it will be different again in twenty years’ time. I was sentenced in 1981, how different will 2021 look in comparison? Unrecognisable, I’m sure. Why, would I even have a judge making the decision, wouldn’t some robot be analysing everything and declaring what the truth is? Frank died in 1972, only twenty-seven years after the war finished, and another twenty-seven years later, here we stand, together. Things change quickly and yet, over the course of a thousand years, how much difference has it made? Did you know, there are oak trees which were alive at the last change of the millennium? Puts it all into perspective, doesn’t it? Some things change less than we presume. We are still humans, having children, labouring in some form. There were judges then too, you know. The medicine is much better now, I grant you, I’d be long dead by now if I lived in the Middle Ages I’m sure. I suppose my point is, as the bands of time get longer, the categories we consider should get broader. Most of it is surface change, when you properly examine it.
I’m getting cold very quickly I’m afraid. I don’t know if it will freeze again tonight, but I’m finding it chilly, even though there’s no breeze. My chin is cold rather than my nose, surprisingly, but I’m sure the rest of me won’t be far behind. I don’t want to rush though, I shall meander back taking as long as I can. It is breath taking. I mean, look at those clouds that have appeared behind us. The lowest are dark grey and look like a mountain range, with white fluffy clouds above and blue sky in between. It’s the low sun creating that effect, you see, casting the lower clouds into shadow. It isn’t going to rain, I promise. It is an exquisite day. Ah, I recognise this feeling, this is optimism. Standing here in the cold air with you, my face smarting, my toes numbing, I can sense joys to come, there is something to look forward to. Maybe that’s because my life is about to change so drastically, perhaps it’s all this reflection on my life that I’ve been doing, while I’ve been sharing my stories with you.
I never allowed myself to believe I could build a relationship with you, my dear granddaughter, not with Lucy being as distant as she is, but look at us now, so well bonded that I’m planning to give you the true treasures. So, if you’ll continue your visits into the new year, even though it’s going to be cold and damp and dark, I’ll tell you the rest of my stories. I shall unburden myself of my more dreadful secrets, in the hope of redemption. The days will get longer, and brighter, and warmer, and I will change with the season as it comes. Everything, including me, will wait out the winter, and search for the signs of spring.