A Portrait of December: The Enchantment of Winter’s Old Man
Introduction:
December, to me, is an old man of tall stature, dignified, and adorned with long white hair and beard. Though he does not appear frail, his commanding presence can be chilling, a mix of Odin, the wise and powerful Norse god, and Merlin, the enigmatic and knowledgeable wizard from legend. This portrayal of December as a personified winter figure weaves through the narrative, emphasizing his profound and ethereal connection to the season.
Decades of Winter
My father often recounted stories of December during the monsoon season. He spoke of how the wind would howl mercilessly over our clay-tiled roof, a stark contrast to the peaceful calm that characterizes December in our region. As a child, I would huddle with my younger brother by the cold window, while December, barefoot and resolute, ventured into the new grass, touching the ghost willows near our well. This act would send the willows shuddering and the blue fireflies retreating into the safety of the bamboo leaves.
The Quiet Walks of December
In the early mornings, my father and I would often visit the fields, where the grass had grown taller and greener. He would show me where December had delicately stepped over the grass, leaving spider web trails sprinkled with dew and traces of shinily glimmering ilmanite grains. Here, the dragonflies loved to play, with their rapid wings reflecting sunlight, as if taunting the shy fireflies to emerge from their hiding spots. I often felt that December, like me, would have enjoyed chasing after and playing with these dragonflies.
The Changing Seasons, Changing December
As the years have passed, December has undergone a transformation. She is now much shorter-tempered than she used to be, and her violent outbursts can be heard even by the old ghost willows, who groan in dissatisfaction. Yet, there are moments when she chooses to ignore the green sprouts, leaving them to wilt in sadness, likely because the dragonflies are no longer playing to invite the fireflies back out of hiding. These changes in her demeanor reflect the dwindling presence of these lovable creatures and the loneliness it brings.
The Legacy of December
Though I have changed over the years, my connection to December remains. I can no longer follow her path, but I wish for her to continue returning each year so that my children can experience the joy and wonder of her presence. To achieve this, I spend my time counting the dragonflies, and softly whisper to the rare fireflies outside my window: “Tell December that I miss her.” As I walk outside to greet December during the cold, windy nights, I hope that the old man of winter will linger for just a bit longer, and that the spirit of December will continue to enchant the world with her presence.