03 December 2009

December and the Snowflake

It's December, the whimsical month of snow flurries and ice skating.
For some of us.
Here, well, it hardly ever snows. Ever.
So I thought I would send a friendly snowflake to have a little discussion with December.

December: I am the best of all the months. I am cold and frosty and windy. I make people hunch up in their jackets. I force them to hurry inside and not come out.
Snowflake: I am dainty and white and when I fall, everything is silence. When I come flitting, floating, everyone runs outside. I wrap loving blankets around the trees' twiggy shoulders.
December: I howl frosty winds through the trees and make their branches snap off and thump onto the ground.
Snowflake: I am different, unique, unlike all those of my kind. Children clap their hands and stick out their tongues and twirl around to snatch me in fun from the sky.
December: And then you melt from their grasp, giving them a short burst of happiness only to tear it away. I stay for as long as they'll have me, and longer. Every year I am the same, and every year people look at the calendar in suspense, waiting for me. Me!
Snowflake: People look toward the icy gates of December with apprehension. They envision red noses and purple fingers and toes.
December: That is true, I give them what they wish for.
Snowflake: They do not wish for December! They hate you! They despise you! And the only reason they suffer through your tortuously short days is for Christmas. Yes, Christmas!
December: They suffer through Christmas knowing that I am almost leaving! They sob and wail at my departure!
Snowflake: They throw parties! Parties to welcome January. Parties to cast you out, parties to celebrate seeing the end of you for a blissful eleven months!
December: You are lying! You spite me! You despicable thing!
Snowflake: Those who have seen me wish for me again and again. They marvel at my glittering facets, my diamond features. Everyone has known you. Few like you.
December: Ah, Snowflake, you have not played your game as skilfully as I have. See here, the southern hemisphere. You cannot bother me here.
Snowflake: You are wrong, my dear December. Quite wrong. See look, we are here, both of us.
December: You have failed to notice your melting limbs. Your "glittering facets" are nothing, you are dripping into water.
December: See, my foolish foe, you have no more words. You cannot speak to defend your infantile actions and childish words.
December: Snowflake, what's this? You wish to return to the northern hemisphere, where you can live once more? Well no can do, I'm afraid. It's vacation time here, and I have a hankering for balmy skies and smooth seas.
December: Well, you'll have to take it up with June. I'm off-duty.

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