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Snow flakes fell in a flurry from above, in a pattern that seemed both choreographed and disorganized. A magical haze enveloped everything, and gave all familiarity a cold and disorienting change in appearance. I found myself before a place I once knew. In another season its demeanor was one of warmth, relaxation and accepting reception. But the doors that once fell open in invitation seemed now to be rigid and locked, frozen shut as if bracing for the worst.

I was in a dream. A mirage of images swam through my field of vision. “How did you get here?” I thought to myself, as our paths crossed and uncrossed in an instant. Though, quickly I was left where I’d begun, with nothing much to validate the existence of any moments (perceived to have) passed. “What is it, really, that I am longing to hold in my hands?” I wondered.

As I approached the barren porch, buried and unvisited by any trace, the wind could be heard whistling subtly through small cracks in the structure. Its exterior shivered and shook. My gloved fist knocked against the hard wooden door creating a hollow, deadened thump, but no one answered. I peered in its glassy windows to find cold, dark rooms stained blue in the winter light. Empty, without a sign of occupancy.

Left with a lingering feeling of loneliness, I deflated to sit desperately on its steps for a moment. I could’ve sworn I saw the curtains sway, but it must’ve been the wind that blew them aside.

I found comfort beneath a dome of snow, resting heavily on the slumped and low hanging branches of a couple of neighboring trees. It was its own little world in there, tucked away from the wind and precipitation as it fell. A new refuge was discovered in this cozy niche as I’d chosen to explore it. A haven now, in this new light.