When he first started walking he only walked for ten minutes, slowly, but now he was walking a couple of miles each morning. At first he had to push himself a little to get up the slight hill, but he knew after he reached the top that sooner or later the walking would get easier, his head clearing more and more, and by the time he got back he would be feeling much better than when he left, but still feeling isolated from his family… and everything else. He had talked with Dr. Richter about it the last time he saw him, telling him he thought he would feel better if he did not have to take those pills, but the doctor warned him about trying to do too much too soon, so he reluctantly continued to take them, constantly promising himself that he would stop them soon, or at least cut down on the dosage no matter what Richter said. But that was in the future. Right now he just had to put one foot in front of the other and walk along the now familiar streets.

When he got to the top of the hill he stopped for a moment to catch his breath and look around. There was no living creature to be seen. Everything was still. And the falling snow had a sense of stillness about it. It fluttered through the air and fell to the ground or trees or bushes never seeming to be alien to the surroundings, as if it had always been there and was just another part of the air, and everything else that surrounded him. He felt it brush his face as he looked up at the sky, seeing no difference between the air and sky, all a soft gray with a light of its own, the snow floating through the illuminated grayness.

Harry looked at the bare trees as he walked, their limbs auraed with snow, the evergreen trees and bushes flocked and bending slightly from the moist weight of the snow. The stillness was new to him, a quietness never heard of or read about, but one he was now experiencing. And though there was an almost tangible quality about the air it was lighter than ever before and Harry felt a floating sensation soothe him as he walked, there seeming to be less and less resistance to his movement.

He looked down at the street, and the unbroken whiteness, and watched his foot touch the snow and listened to the slight crunching sound as he stepped forward. He looked back at his footprints. They were fascinating. He had been the only one to walk along this street today. There wasnt even the mark of a dog or squirrel, or the scratch of a bird. He continued through the soft, silent snow, a feeling of peace starting to flow through him, helping make his step lighter and easier.

He looked at the houses he had been passing these weeks and though he had never studied them carefully they had become familiar through the process of seeing them so often, and he was now impressed with the change in their appearance as he looked at them through the gray of the air and whiteness of the snow, each house, shrub, tree, bush and mailbox trimmed with snow and blending into the air as if they were just a picture projected upon the still, pearly grayness, just an impression created by the silent snow, a picture on the edge and verge of disappearing and leaving only the air and snow through which he now lightly walked.

He turned another corner noticing the split rail fence, his minds eye filling in a manger scene with animals watching the quiet child while the Wise Men profferred presents and lay them at the feet of Mary and Joseph…

Jesus, was Christmas only a few months ago? It seems so distant, so distant that he wondered where the memory came from. But its only a week or so until Spring… spring… yes, it is the last snow of the winter. This will be it. No more. The kids will have to do all their sleighriding this weekend and then put the sleighs away until next winter…

Yes, winter will come again. But soon it will be spring. But whatever the season will there ever be another day like today, like it is right now? No… no… No, there can never be another to compare… to be absorbed by… to become a part of…

He continued walking but his pace slowed. He did not want this walk to end. He did not want to think of it ending. He wanted to abandon himself to this experience… abandon himself to the soft, illuminated air, and the silent snow that surrounded him, touched him, clung to him, little clumps hanging from his eyebrows, vaguely visible as translucent objects seen from the edge of vision…

Vision…

It was all a vision. A vision without… a vision seen all around him yet experienced within. His lungs functioned easier, his breathing calm and comfortable; his heartbeat relaxed and regular; his legs feeling light and his feet and hands warm… yes warm, and even his nose seemed to be warm, wonderfully warm

yes, all warm and he knew he was smiling and that his smile was warm.

He stopped as he reached the turning point. He had walked a mile. Time to start back. He looked at the nearby homes, the ones in the distance seeming to be almost amorphous as they blended with the illuminated air; then up at the trees, their snow-rimmed grayness disappearing in the light. He saw a crow sitting still near the tip of a limb, its blackness startling. He stared and waited for the call, blinking automatically as the snow brushed his eyes, but not changing the direction of his sight. He stood absolutely still. And quiet. Then he heard the call. Three times. The crow above answered and rose slowly and seemed to hover over the limb, the snow ignoring the beating wings, continuing to fall straight and seeming to flow through the crow as it flew to its mate. He watched until it was out of sight, wondering if that could really have been the first sound he heard since leaving the house, or was it just the first he noticed?

He turned and took the first, slow step back.

He retraced his footsteps, the only footsteps in the snow. They seemed small, and though they were alone they did not seem to be lonely. He smiled at the thought of lonely footprints, as if footprints could have a life of their own, or even that they could reflect the life of their maker. Perhaps… who knows? But thats neither here nor there. He was walking amongst his own footprints, simply walking and leaving another set of prints facing in the opposite direction.

And so he walked, keeping himself company. He noticed movement from the corner of his eye and saw two dogs emerging from the trees, snow hanging from their long hair, walking quietly through the snow. They glanced at him briefly and continued on their journey, their noses in turn sniffing at the snow, the trees, the air, but always moving slowly and silently. Harry did not stop, or slacken his pace, as he briefly watched them once again disappear into and behind the trees and shrubs.

He turned another corner and there was a long stretch of flat, crisp whiteness, broken only by his footprints, stretching out in front of him and seeming to disappear in the white’gray distance. It did not seem possible, but the air was even softer and quieter. He continued walking alongside his prints feeling he could walk forever, that as long as the silent snow continued falling he could continue walking, and as he did he would leave behind all worries and cares, all horrors of the past and future. There would be nothing to bother him or torture his mind and fill his body with tremors of fear, the dark night of the soul over. There would only be himself and the soft, silent snow; and each flake, in its own life, its own separate and distinct entity, would bring with it its own joy, and he would easily partake of that joy as he continued walking, the gentle, silent snow falling ever so quietly, ever so joyously…

yes, and ever so love-ing-ly…

loveing-ly….

Of course! thats why the air is so brightly gray and alive instead of the dismal drabness you would expect. Its the lovingness of the snow. God, how soothing it is.

Yes, he could walk forever. He could so easily continue to walk and all thoughts of death would fall away, absorbed by the silent snow.