Memoirs of a Snowflake
Joe Vasicek
Copyright © 2011 by Joseph Vasicek. All rights reserved.
Cover image taken from Wikimedia Commons. Used with permission.
Smashwords Edition
Memoirs of a Snowflake
Joe Vasicek
In the moment before my first memory, I feel a wonderful lightness, a floating sensation that isn’t truly a sensation because I don’t yet know who I am or that I am. But then I feel a coming together, a sense of going that is my becoming, my awakening. And that is my first memory.
I feel completely insubstantial as I float in a sea of white. It feels comforting and peaceful, like home. Childlike curiosity drives me to explore myself, and I find that my body is growing. Delicate tendrils of ice spread out in beautiful, unique patterns from the tiny part of me that was my beginning. I take joy and fascination in becoming aware of myself.
I feel the presence of many brothers and sisters. We are all growing, all newly self-aware. The whiteness takes form, too—she is our cloud-mother, and her presence fills our budding awareness. We are hers and feel at home in her.
You are growing very well, she tells us. Soon it will be time to leave for the world below.
We are afraid to leave her because she is our home, our mother. If we leave her, we will die. We don’t know how we know this, but we do.
Don’t be afraid, she tells us. Every end is a beginning. You lived before you were born to me and you will return here after your time below is through. Every death gives way to a new rebirth.
The words of our mother-cloud comfort us and help us forget our fears.
The time comes. We begin our gradual descent together, drifting slowly downward into the night. Staying close together helps us not to be afraid. Soon, our mother is far above us, still bidding us farewell.
When she is gone, we are alone in a sea of white. It is silent all around us. To lift the silence some of us begin to sing silent songs of thoughts, songs that we can all hear together in our minds. We sing of our mother and our brothers and sisters, of our anticipation for the world awaiting us below. Though we all share the same fears and anxieties, our individual thoughts and feelings are as unique as our crystalline bodies, and each of us adds something different to the thought-song to make it rich and beautiful. Soon, we feel confident and happy in ourselves. We miss our mother, but we are ready and excited to begin our lives in the world below.
After a little more time, we begin to see shapes in the murky whiteness: outlines that gradually become clearer and more distinct as we continue our descent. We see lights and shadows, shades of reddish-grey, and great lumbering shapes moving across the whitewashed surface of the world.