I Want a Terribly Beautiful Winter
I want winter to live up to its name, to be a terribly beautiful winter, to have a lot of snow. The winter I want is not one where soot and mist mix together, the city is covered in a deep daylight darkness, and snow falls mixed with rain. The snow should fall in such a way that each snowflake, each the size of a leaf, falls to the ground spinning under the yellow light of the street lamps as if it were attached to a separate angel's wing. The roads, cars, and trees should be covered under a thick white cover like red-tiled roofs.
The ending autumn is often a sign of difficult days to come. Epidemic disease viruses roam trains, buses, and indoor spaces. However, I dream of a winter where every living creature, from the insects nesting under stones to the sparrows taking shelter under eaves, from the sparrows to humans, is happy and does not feel cold. This winter will be such that the only reason children will cry will be because their fingers, which have frozen after playing snowballs for hours, hurt when they hit the heat. There is no need for wood, coal or natural gas in this winter because there is no need to be cold either.
This winter is now for enjoying. Sitting behind the window, right next to the radiator, sipping your tea and watching the snow fall outside, what is much more enjoyable than walking hand in hand with your beloved on the snow creaking under your feet, painting tripe soup red with chili pepper in a small restaurant where the windows, walls and even tables are covered in steam. Leaning your elbows on the marble counter in a boza shop, inhaling the smell of salep, cinnamon and ginger.
This winter is a happy winter, contrary to those who divide human life into seasons and compare winter to the days of old age when hair will turn gray, movements will become slow and breaths will become short. What an easy, clumsy analogy. It will snow a lot, and we will spend the last days of our lives at home, without getting out from under our blankets, fearing coughing, sneezing, high blood pressure, and diabetes. However, what a great mistake this is for those who attribute happiness to spring! Spring is a season in which the biggest mistakes are made, the heart palpitations never cease, and it is an exciting and tiring season. Summer, on the other hand, is spent working relatively hard and making up for the mistakes made in youth. The season closest to winter is autumn. Autumn is harvest time, autumn is grape harvest, autumn is preparation for winter, at least.
This winter is now a winter in which a long vacation begins, memories like preserves, compote, molasses, and jam are never far from our tables. If spring, summer, and autumn were good, winter will be good too.
I want winter to live up to its name, I want it to be a terrifying winter. A magnificent winter where no one feels cold, where mistakes, flaws, sins, and regrets remain under a white blanket, where joys of sledding, snowballing, and snowmen are experienced... What comes after? If the winter is going well, there will always be spring after it, always spring.
