Maybe we need all this white.

True, it’s work, sometimes.

But the neighbour kids think it’s freedom.

They brag about the growing size of their snow drift.

I remember being like them.

Never despising the season.

But seeing every snowdrift,

Every downfall of more white

As an opportunity.

 

The white has no edges,

Even the sky is white.

Like we slowed down enough that

we went back in time

to old photographs,

pencil sketches here and there,

but mostly,

all this space.

All this white.

 

White is very “in.”

It’s clean.

Fresh.

Simple.

Freeing.

 

White kitchen cabinets,

White bedroom walls,

White sheets and coffee mugs.

 

 

Maybe it’s all exposing

All our need for this,

For empty space.

 

My favourite thinking spot

Is in my white room.

Where there is nothing on the walls.

I’m a picture-aholic.

Paintings, photos, quotes,, chalkboard paint,

Let’s not even start on the pattered wallpaper…

And those rooms are cozy,

And bright and happy,

Inspiring, eye-catching,

But what they don’t offer

Is a blank space,

A space without edges.

 

I need all this space

All this white.

 

There are no tracks in the snow yet

Cause it’s Sunday morning

And it snowed all night

And the snowplows have yet to come,

Scraping and sanding

To make productivity possible again

so everyone is sleeping in.

The white invites this.

Slowing.

Staring.

Silence.

Seeing

Endless possibility

And sometimes just what it is,

Nothing.

 

All these tracks in my mind,

Need to be covered up

By a good dump of snow.

I could start fresh,

Simple,

Free.

All these words, feelings, plans,

Endless planning,

Need to be covered up.

Or erased.

I like that better.

Erased.

 

But to not make tracks

I need to be still.

Still in the white.

 

Maybe we can

Step into the white

Again

And again

And again

And remember

We need this.

Space.

Nothing.

Breathing room.

Lessening.

Simplicity.

Freedom.

Erasing.

White.