And So There Were Three

And so there were three.

Three thoughts concerning snowflakes. 

And as these snowflakes darted over and around the icy windshield, I indulged in the thought of them, tapping the wheel in the rhythm of icy winds. 

1. You could believe they were nothing but pests, scribbling around out of control. All like the fat bellied rats cats pounce on but never trap, never enough to rid the cellar of anyway. 

Snowflakes always return. We often think the sky would take decades to recover, yet the next day she shows herself.

2. Perhaps they don’t matter, only the memories they create do. 

The warmth of coco in the cold, dark, and snowing days, 

or,

The love of falling back into an endless mattress that could soften any fall. 

(This must be the most popular theory.)

3. But then there is a third, most mysterious. 

That, indeed, the flakes have spirits, a soul. 

Life. 

Dancing and swaying to the rhythm of the gales, swooping in on a second's notice, interlocked in a changing dance. 

One moment, swooning with one snow, and the next swept away by that cold winter wind. 

And so I thought it was appropriate to say: “And So There Were Three,” 

Which, of course, earned me a confused look from one of them.