⁵⁰the lake, the poet, and the muse

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clementine

The glitter-like snow has coated the grounds of my home city, rendering what would be dusty brick into shining ice, making everything twice as beautiful as it would be in the summer.

Though as much as I love Paris in winter, I have a distaste for feeling too cold, which I'm sure everyone does. My glove-covered hands are tucked deep into the pockets of my thick winter coat, searching for warmth that isn't there.

My eyes run through the snow-coated street. Everything looks cleaner than they usually are. The once dusty cars are suddenly worn clean, the pavements adorned in shallow footprints of all sizes, and anyone who would walk out at this time of the year is always heavily clothed.

Christmas mornings in New York could never beat Christmas mornings in Paris.

I woke up today surprisingly not jet-lagged, but instead, filled with adrenaline for the day's plans. Though not much was put in mind since the Christmas celebration was all done last night and this morning, I still have some sort of anticipation for what the day has for me.

After my family exchanged and opened our gifts this morning at breakfast, mom and dad had told my three siblings and I to head out and have fun in the frozen-over lake while they ride to their friends' houses to give them their Christmas gifts.

And as soon as we were done dressing up after breakfast, Maddie, Ollie, and Ev were quick to take out our skating shoes and head out the door, leaving me to follow after them to the park not too far, where nestled within the trees is a lake big enough for twenty people to skate on.

I skid past Maddie on my bladed boots after she pushes me, leading me to land on a pile of snow not too far off. "Maddie!" I shout  as I stumble back up and dust the particles off me. "That's not fair!"

She blows a raspberry and skates off, circling Ollie as she taunts him that she can skate better.

In this area of expertise, Maddie's especially competitive just because she had lessons for a whole year when she was seven. I sometimes like to counter with the fact that since I'm older, I've technically skated longer than she has, but her solution is to roll her eyes, mimic me in a mocking tone, and walk away — or in this case, skate away.

I watch from afar as Everett gathers a large snowball, patting it before launching it right at Ollie, which lands on his face, leading him to fall back butt first on the ice.

I snort, my arms shooting up in celebration. "Score!" I shout, much to Ollie's annoyance.

"That was for giving me pig build-a-bear as a gift!" Everett points at Ollie as he starts to form another snowball.

Ollie wipes off the snow from his face with his sleeve, grumbling something under his breath before shooting Everett and I a narrowed glare. "What! I work in Baskin Robbins, what did you expect?" He argues as he kneels and stands back up, grabbing some snow from the side and forming it into a small ball.

Everett scoffs. "Um... clearly, a frog build-a-bear!" He shouts back, taking a hit on the back from the snowball Ollie had thrown. "Oh, how dare you, brother,"

Ollie barks out a laugh before grabbing a larger mound of snow.

Everett throws his snowball back at Ollie before looking up at me. "Dear sister, bring us warm sustenance. This battle will not go down without hot chocolate," He says in a dramatic English accent,

I nod before making my way off the frozen lake and onto the inches of snow right beside. "Of course, sire," I respond in a tone just as dramatic as his before slipping out of my skating boots and lacing the black boots that my mom had lent me earlier this morning

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓Where stories live. Discover now