Image: Christmas tree. Source
Author: Marina Karpova
I love winter.
In winter our garden becomes so clean that it sparkles in sunlight. I adore these little white flies that fall from the sky to make the air fresh. Yet I feel very angry with them every time they bite the hands of our kids. These two little fellows work hard all day to crunch out intricate patterns with their steps on the ground. However, unfortunately, every night those patterns disappear under the brand new carpet.
In winter I have my Birthday. When this day comes our garden loses its usual tranquility and becomes a luminous place with uncountable flashings. Each and every single light mirrors in my golden necklaces making them like fire. Poor white flies, they cannot bear all this brightness, so I see them vanishing when they approach the lights. My red festive outfit contrasts with the whiteness of the garden to celebrate the singularity of this day.
The world overloads with various sounds and seems to be constantly in movement. Even the glossy paper my presents are wrapped in cannot stay silent: it rustles, attracting the white flies’ attention. They fall on the colorful boxes of different shapes and sizes in hope to figure out what’s inside. It’s pointless to hide that I am also deeply curious, yet I always wait until next morning so the kids could open boxes with me. In the morning the air is saturated with their shouts of joy and happiness. All the family comes together to sing a Happy Birthday Carol for me which echoes with warmth in my heart…