basKing

A planned, somewhat last-minute, get together on the town green to make snowmen, kits of snowmen accessories optional. Snowball fights, snow angels, black-buttoned-snowmen, laughs and giggles spread across the square, as if staged and choreographed by Hollywood’s best directors.

In the background, underneath it all, lay one death of a 5-year-old to cancer and one father at the onset of a diagnosis and treatment.

Can corn-cob pipes and buttoned-noses fill the holes of broken hearts? The shaping and molding of snow torsos heal the broken bodies? The squeals and giggles from running friends, in newlY fallen snow evoke enough happiness to cure the unimaginable pain?

Or is every happy scene like this…just one moment away from the unbearable pain that life brings? One person in the crowd emerging from the depths of suffering loss, but the rest too ignorant to know? Are we selfish to bask in our ignorance, relishing the innocence that surrounds us…protects us? Knowing that at any moment life will lacerate through the happy scene, leveling the playing field of snow?

Bask, my friends. Lie fully exposed to all of life’s warmth and love. These fleeting things deserve more than the cursory view. STOP ~ throw snowballs with children and friends. Build a village of snow people, adorned with accessory kits of pipes, buttons, scarves, and hats, to stand guard on the town green; to stand guard against anguish; to protect the innocence of childhood for us all.

Wendy Fiore, 2013

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3 Comments »

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