A Melting Winter – by Emilia Brewer (Middle School)
Such adventure in a young mind brings life to stop in its organized route.
For, if it shall continue forward, it may leave behind great power and an even greater change. But, on the contrary, if it were to dawdle along the dirt path, it would place a bet on an unstable occasion.
And so, life takes a fraction of its mentality and donates it to the path, while the rest continues down the organized route, unheard of until the plum blossoms bloom once more.
The fraction begins to follow the dirt path, not paying much attention to the change around it. Why care? A singular mission has no right to take much authority, nor attention. The path is sure to continue along with its spry sky and gleaming sprouts.
But soon, the fraction of life finds itself among white trees.
It had barely noticed that winter had fallen, so here it stumbles unprepared through the sharp cold.
The wind can cut wood, the air can stop water, and the sky has morphed from a bright young blue to a clouded and dismal grey. Trees hang lower than they once stood, defeated by the harsh season. And the sprouts can no longer be seen under the thick blanket of snow.
“Rest, my child,” the wind says. “Break from your tiring journey. The summer of last season is welcoming and warm. Do sit a spell by our fires.”
But the fraction of life continues on. The wind taunts it through winter, teasing and poking and prompting. But to no avail.
And then, just as the fraction begins to turn for the wind, the plum blossoms bloom. The rest of life returns, scaring the wind away. It cradles the fraction for a moment, showing it a bright sunset at the end of the path.
“Go forward,” life says. “Though this path is rare and difficult, everyone ends up in the sunset. And I’ll tell you a secret: the ones who have walked through winter know how to cherish the warmth the most.”