Caroline Hughes, Senior, Strategic Communication, Chicago, IL
He laid upon me like a snowflake. It was a slow, delicate fall, effortless and breathtaking, yet cold to the touch.
You know that feeling when your fiery hot skin meets an icy shower on the hottest of summer days. Your skin immediately burns because two temperatures of such strong contrast might not be intended to interact. After a few seconds of regret, you understand why you turned the shower all the way blue; the cool droplets sink into your sunburn, slowly bringing your body temperature back to level zero.
Was I foolish to think he could bring me to zero? Center my body, level my mind, give me a sense of stability between the freezing water and the burning sun? When the outside world wore extremes, his closet was all neutral–beige, black, navy blue. Sometimes heathered gray. It was nice, I thought, after all those sunburns and frostbites, to feel neutral.
He laid upon me like a snowflake – lightly. I mistook the slow, delicate fall for him being gentle, when really he was staying far away. He never made enough contact to have to stay too long – it was all temporary in his mind. As soon as I turned over to embrace him, he melted away.
On the playground in 2006, in a small town outside the city, my blue eyes, too big for my head at the time, widened as my flamingo pink L.L. Bean mittens pooled with snowflakes.
I told Mrs. Addatto I wanted to take them home–to take them to my bedroom and put them next to my books because they were just that pretty. Laughing at my innocence, Mrs. Addatto said that she agreed, they are precious. But then she warned me, once I closed my fist, they would melt away.
On that day, I thought I learned that some things are meant to be enjoyed only at that moment. Not everything can come back home with you, no matter how precious.
Mrs. Adatto warned me of beautiful things vanishing, especially when you embraced them tightly. I just didn’t think you would, too.
He laid upon me like a snowflake, and within a second, he was gone. If something is too beautiful, it may be an illusion.