neighborhood

This was written during Christmas break of 06, inspired by a walk I took around my street at night, when the streets were buried in snow and the Christmas lights were twinkling.


Never noticed how much I missed my home until I came back. Not just the house I grew up in, but the streets, town, familiarity.

Never noticed how I love snow so until my snowboots left prints in it again.
I walked out to get rid of energy, but came back inside with a brand new energy. A rekindled spirit.

Dark, except for Christmas lights glowing on the houses everywhere, dazzling the night and the snow. Take a few steps, walk a few minutes, then stop. Freeze. Listen to what? Nothing.

Silence and peace overwhelmed me when I shut my eyes and didn't move. Missing the peacefulness of this little town.

Since the last snowfall, no one had walked on these sidewalks yet except for me. My tracks were the first on the fresh powder. A few here and there along driveways, probably from shoveling.

Walk a few more seconds, the sound of my boots crunching in the snow almost seemed to be a sin, breaking the sacred silence. Then stop again, and listen. Listen to silence. Repeat this over and over.

Occasionally a plane is heard overhead, or a neighbor's furnace, nothing more. No cars drive by. The more I moved along the silent streets, the more beautiful the snow glowed in the darkness.

Stop and listen. Walk a little. Stop, listen, walk. Again, again, again.
Always keep moving forward, but stop and listen to the silence around. Take time to soak in the peace, breathe deeply the air around. Shut your eyes in the beauty and feel nothing, or everything.

Take time to notice the small interruptions that shatter and break the silence and peace. And then, when your heart is at ease and gracious for the spirit gained, move forward again, until your heart needs another break, another breath of life.