Song of the Silent Snow (23 page)

Harry looked at her and pulled his hand from hers, a feeling of annoyance creeping through him, then conflict and tension, wanting to tell Alice not to be so damned patronizing, but the necessary anger wasnt there to force the words from his mouth. His voice was flat, but it did reflect his irritation. Doctors orders. I walk every day. Strengthen the heart.

Alice stood still as Harry finished dressing, not trusting herself to say anything, afraid she would start yelling or calling him a self-pitying bastard, and just watched, in silence, as he prepared himself for the weather... then decided she would try again. Kiss goodbye? leaning forward to kiss him, and be kissed, Harry immediately rigid, turning his cheek to her as he backed away. He looked at her for a brief moment, his expression one of confusion. See you later.

Alice watched him walk across the yard, the only moving object in the snow. He picked his way slowly, and carefully, to the street ...

She spun around and went to the kitchen and started scrubbing a pan, tightening her jaw, feeling an ache in her hands and arms, scrubbing so hard it was as if she was trying to rub a hole in the pan. She suddenly dropped it in the sink. Goddamn it. Im not going to put up with this nonsense. That Richter had better do something Im going to call him today and - she suddenly sagged over the sink and threw the soap pad at the pan. It was the same old thing. Every time she got angry with Harry she remembered what the doctor said: that it was expected that Harry would be withdrawn for a while, but his condition would improve with time and rest. She looked out the window over the sink at the almost unnatural quietness outside, which increased the turmoil within her. Time. Time, time!!!! It seems like its what everything needs but we never have enough of. Goddam time! You hear me time? Goddamn you! Whose side you on anyway?!

Harry crossed the street to the side that was free of houses. Just trees all the way up the slight incline to the next street. On the other side he could see houses but they were well back and only visible because the trees were bare. He looked up at the large nests in a couple of trees, nests that he had been told were squirrels. He had been surprised to learn that squirrels had nests like those, having always thought they only lived in the hollows of trees as in cartoons. He passed them each day these past weeks, since being released from the hospital, stopping and checking, yet never once did he see a squirrel anywhere near either nest, or any other creature for that matter. Always nothing.

When he first started walking he only walked for ten minutes, slowly, but now he was walking a couple of miles each morning. At first he had to push himself a little to get up the slight hill, but he knew after he reached the top that sooner or later the walking would get easier, his head clearing more and more, and by the time he got back he would be feeling much better than when he left, but still feeling isolated from his family ... and everything else. He had talked with Dr. Richter about it the last time he saw him, telling him he thought he would feel better if he did not have to take those pills, but the doctor warned him about trying to do too much too soon, so he reluctantly continued to take them, constantly promising himself that he would stop them soon, or at least cut down on the dosage no matter what Richter said. But that was in the future. Right now he just had to put one foot in front of the other and walk along the now familiar streets.

When he got to the top of the hill he stopped for a moment to catch his breath and look around. There was no living creature to be seen. Everything was still. And the falling snow had a sense of stillness about it. It fluttered through the air and fell to the ground or trees or bushes never seeming to be alien to the surroundings, as if it had always been there and was just another part of the air, and everything else that surrounded him. He felt it brush his face as he looked up at the sky, seeing no difference between the air and sky, all a soft gray with a light of its own, the snow floating through the illuminated grayness.

Harry looked at the bare trees as he walked, their limbs auraed with snow, the evergreen trees and bushes flocked and bending slightly from the moist weight of the snow. The stillness was new to him, a quietness never heard of or read about, but one he was now experiencing. And though there was an almost tangible quality about the air it was lighter than ever before and Harry felt a floating sensation soothe him as he walked, there seeming to be less and less resistance to his movement.

He looked down at the street, and the unbroken whiteness, and watched his foot touch the snow and listened to the slight crunching sound as he stepped forward. He looked back at his footprints. They were fascinating. He had been the only one to walk along this street today. There wasnt even the mark of a dog or squirrel, or the scratch of a bird. He continued through the soft, silent snow, a feeling of peace starting to flow through him, helping make his step lighter and easier.

He looked at the houses he had been passing these weeks and though he had never studied them carefully they had become familiar through the process of seeing them so often, and he was now impressed with the change in their appearance as he looked at them through the gray of the air and whiteness of the snow, each house, shrub, tree, bush and mailbox trimmed with snow and blending into the air as if they were just a picture projected upon the still, pearly grayness, just an impression created by the silent snow, a picture on the edge and verge of disappearing and leaving only the air and snow through which he now lightly walked.

He turned another corner noticing the split rail fence, his minds eye filling in a manger scene with animals watching the quiet child while the Wise Men profferred presents and lay them at the feet of Mary and Joseph ...

Jesus, was Christmas only a few months ago? It seems so distant, so distant that he wondered where the memory came from. But its only a week or so until Spring... spring... yes, it is the last snow of the winter. This will be it. No more. The kids will have to do all their sleighriding this weekend and then put the sleighs away until next winter ...

Yes, winter _will_ come again. But soon it will be spring. But whatever the season will there ever be another day like today, like it is right now? No ... no ... No, there can never be another to compare ... to be absorbed by ... to become a part of ...

He continued walking but his pace slowed. He did not want this walk to end. He did not want to think of it ending. He wanted to abandon himself to this experience ... abandon himself to the soft, illuminated air, and the silent snow that surrounded him, touched him, clung to him, little clumps hanging from his eyebrows, vaguely visible as translucent objects seen from the edge of vision ...

Vision ...

It was all a vision. A vision without... a vision seen all around him yet experienced within. His lungs functioned easier, his breathing calm and comfortable; his heartbeat relaxed and regular; his legs feeling light and his feet and hands warm ...

yes warm, and even his nose seemed to be warm, wonderfully warm

yes, all warm and he knew he was smiling and that his smile was warm.

He stopped as he reached the turning point. He had walked a mile. Time to start back. He looked at the nearby homes, the ones in the distance seeming to be almost amorphous as they blended with the illuminated air; then up at the trees, their snow-rimmed grayness disappearing in the light. He saw a crow sitting still near the tip of a limb, its blackness startling. He stared and waited for the call, blinking automatically as the snow brushed his eyes, but not changing the direction of his sight. He stood absolutely still. And quiet. Then he heard the call. Three times. The crow above answered and rose slowly and seemed to hover over the limb, the snow ignoring the beating wings, continuing to fall straight and seeming to flow through the crow as it flew to its mate. He watched until it was out of sight, wondering if that could really have been the first sound he heard since leaving the house, or was it just the first he noticed?

He turned and took the first, slow step back.

He retraced his footsteps, the only footsteps in the snow. They seemed small, and though they were alone they did not seem to be lonely. He smiled at the thought of lonely footprints, as if footprints could have a life of their own, or even that they could reflect the life of their maker. Perhaps ... who knows? But thats neither here nor there. He was walking amongst his own footprints, simply walking and leaving another set of prints facing in the opposite direction.

And so he walked, keeping himself company. He noticed movement from the corner of his eye and saw two dogs emerging from the trees, snow hanging from their long hair, walking quietly through the snow. They glanced at him briefly and continued on their journey, their noses in turn sniffing at the snow, the trees, the air, but always moving slowly and silently. Harry did not stop, or slacken his pace, as he briefly watched them once again disappear into and behind the trees and shrubs.

He turned another corner and there was a long stretch of flat, crisp whiteness, broken only by his footprints, stretching out in front of him and seeming to disappear in the white/gray distance. It did not seem possible, but the air was even softer and quieter. He continued walking alongside his prints feeling he could walk forever, that as long as the silent snow continued falling he could continue walking, and as he did he would leave behind all worries and cares, all horrors of the past and future. There would be nothing to bother him or torture his mind and fill his body with tremors of fear, the dark night of the soul over. There would only be himself and the soft, silent snow; and each flake, in its own life, its own separate and distinct entity, would bring with it its own joy, and he would easily partake of that joy as he continued walking, the gentle, silent snow falling ever so quietly, ever so joyously ...

yes, and ever so love-ing-ly ...

loveing-ly....

Of course! thats why the air is so brightly gray and alive instead of the dismal drabness you would expect. Its the lovingness of the snow. God, how soothing it is.

Yes, he could walk forever. He could so easily continue to walk and all thoughts of death would fall away, absorbed by the silent snow.

Harrys breathing became more and more easy as he walked until he was no longer aware of breathing or even if he was breathing, as if the air was simply passing through him, rejuvenating his body without him having to go through the process of breathing. Soon he no longer heard the crunch of his foot on the snow no matter how he strained to hear it, and it did not surprise him as his body felt so light it seemed impossible for him to even leave a print, all he knew was that he could walk forever.

He approached his street but, instead of turning on to it, he continued walking straight, something drawing him down a street he had never been on before, a street totally strange to him, completely unlike any of the others around him. And as he walked his body continued to feel lighter and lighter as if the sparkle in the silent snow, and the sparkle that illuminated the air, was flowing through him and slowly filled every cell and fiber of his being. He knew that he was glowing. He knew that his eyes were afire with that light. He knew that light shimmered from him even through his clothing. He felt his legs getting lighter and when he looked down there were no footprints. The soft cloth of snow spread over the street was still unstepped upon and as far back as he could see there were no footprints. He turned and looked ahead, feeling his movement through the light of the gray, white air, feeling the light become more and more a part of him as he became more and more a part of the light, and all of his being was filled with incredible joy as the light grew brighter and brighter ...

and

then he heard it, very faintly at first, but distinct just the same. He heard the snow falling gently through the air, each flake sounded distinctly different, yet just as each fell unhindered by another, so their sound did not clash or interfere with each other, but blended into a snow song that he knew very few had ever heard. And that song became louder, though always gentle, as he continued to be absorbed by the light, to become one with the light... and now there werent any feet to leave prints, or a body or eyes to glow, but just light and sound and pure joy, pure eternal joy. No past, no future, no, not even a present, just ever new joy where there wasnt even a memory of pain or struggle or sorrow ... just ever new joy ...

and he knew he could stay here forever.

But then the song of the silent snow was slowly replaced with another sound, vague at first but then more and more familiar as he heard it within him. It was a sound he knew, but could not yet identify. It became more distinct and he listened more intently while still trying to cling to the snow song. The new sound gradually absorbed all his attention until it too started to sing within him... then he finally recognized it, smiling suddenly, and then it was the only song he heard ... the song of Alice and the children, and he re-experienced all the joys of their life together ...

yet still he clung to the thought of the light and the joy of the song of the silent snow, yearning once again to be filled with that joy that forever eliminated doubt and fear, struggling to nurture that fading joy... but then a new sound stabbed him and he suddenly had to fight for breath as he heard his family crying because of his absense and experienced their pain and sorrow, and was then overwhelmed with the realization that he had to go back home. No matter how sweet the song of the silent snow, how beautiful the light, how exquisite the joy, he had to go home.

As he surrendered to this realization he became vaguely aware of his body. He felt that his eyes were still glowing, but now he could feel his feet on the ground, and as he became increasingly aware of his movements, he also became aware that the crying had ceased and he once again felt the love song of his family within him. He felt his face smile as he listened to their voices and felt the warmth of happiness spread through him. It was not the joy of moments ago, but a happiness he had not known for what seemed many, many years, though his mind told him it had only been months; a happiness that he had felt for many years, a happiness he thought had gone forever.