Day 352 – Cold Weather

Human beings should make more snowmen.

I am always fascinated by walking through schoolyards and glimpsing the myriad forts, boulders, and snowpeople festooned across the landscape.  Each structure seems to carry with it the scintillating imaginative energy of the child-builders.  Games, fantasy and mirth are laced throughout – there are no rote snowmen.  No snowmen created with apathetic hands.  Each is the product of pure, laborious whimsy.

I created a snowman last year, during Toronto’s icestorm.  I remember the looks I got – utter confusion, dismay.  Some wary of my motives.  All asking through their glances: “Why?  What for?”

The snowman was visible through my apartment window, and stared across the road to passers by.  I recall when the ice-rain finally hit, scouring the streets in a sheen of glass.  My snowman became an armored obelisk – a totemic testament to joy.  It could not be pushed over, kicked in, like so many frosty victims of tween angst.  The ice flowed down the hill and surrounded my snowman in a sloped mote of ice-rink slickness.  It could not even be approached.  Only admired.

The snowman was there when the power was out.  A reminder that this was a place Humans lived.  I saw grumbling citizens penguin-walking through the middle of barren streets.  Fatigued.  Fed up.  I saw those people look over and behold my snowman, dressed to the nines in old mittens and scarf.  For a moment, their lives became a mote more bearable.

Human beings should make more snowmen.


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