A Slush to Loathe
I wanted to write about snow. Its barrage of thin needles soaking into your skin when the wind blows it across. Its slow dance from the sky in handheld clumps, making the scenery feel as though time has stopped. Its subtle taste to the tongue and blanket to the feet. I wanted to write about snow but I find it joyful.
I will instead write about snow’s snotty-nosed evil younger cousin, slush.
Slush is a monster. A mix of the dirty, yellow snow you’re told to never eat and the idea of a half-frozen freezie. It gunks onto your boots and shoes indiscriminately, following you everywhere until it melts. It slips into said boots and shoes, tingling your feet with dampness.
Icepick cold dampness. Your feet are now submerged in the cold of bare fingers dancing in the wind, all while being entirely covered. The dampness is by far the worst part of the slush experience.
Slush is also hard to walk in. It acts like both snow and ice at the same time. While it gathers on your shoes and provides grip against the plushie snow, it squishes down onto a lumpy and slippery surface. It takes me twice as long to get somewhere when slush is in the equation.
Slush is a nightmare that is force-fed to me every winter.
I write this with snow from a few weekends ago still stuck to the grassy fields and unattended train tracks in Masadam-Yae and Downtown Yonindale. I was caught in the snowfall and the end result was having to walk to the train station with slush in my shoes and snow melting on my eyebrows.
I think to some of my other slush experiences. Walking to my midday exam with a friend. The walk wasn’t silent, but it was quiet. The slush made our shoes soggy and I was asking my shoe-wearing (not boot) friend if she was alright.
Walking through a heavy snowstorm to the bus stop near my co-op workplace. The slush was bad, perhaps worse than the visibility and pins of snow blowing in my face. The bus came late as usual and the bus stop wasn’t cleaned for subsequent days, leaving a soggy mess to anyone who wanted to board.
Walking home at night after a field trip. I misjudged just how cold and how much snowfall would occur, so by the time I got back to school, my feet were just barely recovering from numbness. The bus ride back helped warm my feet up. The sting of the wet cold came back as I walked home.
The only good thing about slush is that it has to snow first. There’s a pleasant feeling to snowfall. Snow clouds glow in the dark, illuminating an otherwise dark sky. Slow glows on the ground, bringing life and light to the dark concrete and asphalt. Snow picks up dirt, cleaning the surrounding areas. It also melts holes into it that air likes to take a rest in whenever it’s warm.
Snow makes itself known in such harmless ways. Ways slush could never.
I know slush will never be pleasant to me. But I genuinely want it to. I want to have a good slush experience, like a little kid frolicking through fields of white dandelions. I want to frolic through slush. It probably won’t happen for now, but I have all winter. I will play the waiting game.
— Heleza
