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The Wait MAG
For nine months I desperately wait. Isit through the scalding heat and the soaking stranglinghumidity that makes life unbearably long. I wait through theconstant rain and dreary cloudiness of fall. The dying autumndrags on like a young child waiting for Christmas; I'm filledwith expectation of the joyous occasion to come. Then, afterall the waiting, and the lonely sadness ... my friend, mycompanion, my winter, comes to join me. The first soft blanketof snow leaves the earth in peaceful slumber. I hurriedlystrap on my gear to join my friend for a day of games andmake-believe. I build a snowman to welcome winter back, and webuild forts and beautiful castles. I am the soldier, I am theprincess, I am in charge. I laugh as I sled down the hills,wind beating on my face. My brother pelts me with a stingingpiercing, painful snowball, but I shake it off and hurl oneback at him. I fall backward into the snow and flap as hard asI can, making angels as presents for winter, my friend,because she has given so many gifts to me - icicles, snow, ashimmering frozen lake, a true wonderland. Even when I'mindoors, sipping hot chocolate with little squishymarshmallows by a roaring fire, I still appreciate winter. Iwrap myself in a thick blanket and stare into the soft pinks,oranges and reds filling the horizon with a glow as themelting snow glistens a heartfelt good-bye to the world andme. I long for just one more day, one more minute, as I partways with my friend for another nine months. Only when we meetagain can I be truly content.
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