Write Now

And today’s writing challenge:

Day 19: Cross an item off your bucket list by doing it in your writing.

She huddled against him under the heavy blanket lined with thick fleece. Layers of warm clothes along with feet wrapped in bulky knitted socks and stuffed into utilitarian snow boots helped with the frigid cold biting her face. Under hats and hoods, as they passed a warm thermos of tea between them, they waited with the others in their group. Every now and then a joke would ring out from another mounded couple and they would all chuckle over it.

They journeyed half way across the world to Rovaniemi, Finland where they had been assured this year they would not miss a chance at finally seeing the famed lights. Still, Mother Nature was a fickle bitch and they had been to the same spot for almost a week with not a flicker of lighted hope that the natural wonder was ready to present itself. Wildlife swept by indifferent to the tourists’ presence, neither species impressed with the other anymore. Tomorrow they would fly back home to a place where there was no chance at all, regardless of the time of year, to see such a spectacular wonder. She stifled a sigh of disappoint determined to enjoy the fact that they were in such a beautiful place, sitting at such a distinct geographical point watching the beauty of Earth unfold.

The guide suddenly spoke refocusing the group which had faded into conversation. They hushed immediately as the lights started low and far in the distance. The cold air biting her face was forgotten as the spectacular display of greens followed faintly by deep pinks and shocks of blue lit the sky. Suddenly the waiting and disappointment were put aside reminding her how small she was and how little she meant to the infinite timeline on Earth. They watched for hours until the guide insisted they leave out of safety for their health in the below freezing temperatures. She didn’t feel the biting cold as her fingers thawed in the warm bus or the questions he asked her about their experience. The colors were still speaking to her and they were telling her a story that she would never forget nor ever be able to really retell with any real impact.

Published by miasotowrites

Wannabe Writer Tired Mother Aspiring Slacker

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