I would choose you

Morning light

I woke to a warm sunlight shining on my face. For a moment, I didn’t move. The blanket was warm around my shoulders, the sheets smelled faintly of pine, and the air in the little room had the gentle bite of winter morning.

The light was golden. I turned toward the window and pulled aside the curtain. For a long moment I simply stared.

The lake was just beyond the trees, wide and and covered in silver ice. A thin sheet of snow was covering its surface, and the sunlight struck it in such a way that it looked like someone had scattered handfuls of crushed diamonds over it. Around the lake stood rows of conifers, their dark green branches heavy with snow, each tree perfectly outlined in white. The sky above was a pale, soft blue, clear and cold and stretching into forever. It was the most beautiful view I had ever woken up to.

I smiled to myself. For the first time in weeks, I felt light. Not happy in a sharp, giddy way, but in the deep, gentle way that settles in your bones and makes you feel like you belong in the world.

The smell of breakfast drifted up the stairs - something sweet and warm, the unmistakable scent of pancakes, and that was all the encouragement I needed. I threw on my thickest tights and a warm dress, then slid my feet into the soft woolen shoes Arthur had handed me the night before, muttering something about how “no one should freeze in this house unless it’s on purpose.”

Downstairs, the kitchen glowed with soft yellow light. Arthur stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with a wooden spatula and humming some unplaceable tune under his breath. The old coffee pot on the stove was bubbling gently, filling the room with the deep, rich scent of roasted beans.

August was curled into an armchair by the window, a guitar resting in his lap, picking out a slow, easy melody that sounded like something a bird might sing in spring. He looked more at peace than I’d ever seen him: his posture loose, his eyes half-closed, his fingers moving without thought.

At the small wooden table near the patio doors, Maria and Hannah sat cross-legged on chairs, playing checkers. Hannah was giggling, leaning her chin on one hand while the other hovered indecisively above her piece. Maria watched her with the calm patience of someone who had already won and was just waiting for the moment it would become clear.

The whole scene was so cozy I felt like I’d stepped into someone else’s dream. The air smelled of cinnamon and coffee, the stove popped and crackled now and then, and outside, the sun was casting golden patches of light across the kitchen floor.

“Rise and shine,” Arthur said without turning. “Hope you’re hungry.”

I nodded, smiling as I took a seat. “Starving.”

He passed me a plate with a stack of pancakes already steaming. “There’s raspberry jam, honey, maple syrup - whatever suits your artistic vision.”

Everyone slowly gathered around the table. I smothered a pancake with jam. It was warm and soft, and I hadn’t even finished the first bite when I heard slow footsteps on the stairs.

Nicole appeared first, wrapped in a grey sweater that hung off one shoulder, her hair still a little tousled from sleep. Behind her came Max, wearing a jacket far too thin for this time of year, and Abraham, who for the first time ever looked sleepy and fully relaxed, still wearing his pajamas.

Within a few minutes, the table was full. Plates passed from hand to hand, forks clinked, coffee poured, and the kitchen filled with quiet laughter and the kind of conversation that only happens in the morning: soft, half-formed, a little dreamy.

After we’d eaten, and while we were still lounging in the warm afterglow of sugar and caffeine, Arthur clapped his hands and said brightly, “Alright. Now that you’re fed and caffeinated, it’s time for a proper winter experience.” Then he disappeared into the storage room, returning a few minutes later with a pile of the most ridiculous-looking winter gear I’d ever seen.

“Absolutely no one,” he said firmly, “is allowed to go skating in the clothes they brought. Unless they want pneumonia and to die dramatically in the snow.”

He began tossing items onto the couch.

“Winter pants. Parkas. Scarves. Hats. Layer up like you’re going to war with a snowman.”

We began sorting through the pile: bright, mismatched, some clearly from Arthur’s childhood. There were sweaters patterned with moose and reindeer, scarves the size of picnic blankets, and mittens that looked like they’d been knitted by a well-meaning but very blind aunt.

I found a thick pair of grey pants that actually fit, a bright yellow sweater with buttons shaped like acorns, a long white scarf, and a blue coat that looked like it had survived several harsh winters already. With a matching blue knit cap pulled over my ears, I felt strangely wonderful. Like a child in the best possible way.

Nicole ended up in a huge burgundy parka with fur trim and a lavender hat that made her look like an enchanted forest witch. Hannah wore a pale blue coat with a rainbow-striped scarf nearly as tall as she was, and Maria, in a green fleece jacket and red pants, looked like someone’s cool older cousin visiting from the Alps.

Abraham, somehow, found a white coat with black stripes and looked oddly regal in it, while Max wore a too-small brown coat that made his shoulders hunch and a trapper hat that gave him the air of a forgotten poet.

August, naturally, had managed to find the only outfit that made him look more mysterious than usual - a dark green sweater, grey scarf, and a black wool coat that gave him the appearance of a Byronic hero on holiday.

Once we were all suited up in our new disguises, Arthur brought out a wooden crate filled with curious metal devices.

“These,” he announced, “are detachable blades. Ever tried them?”

We shook our heads.

“They’re basically metal ice skates that strap onto any boot. You just place your shoe into the metal frame, tighten the laces and straps here, and voilà - ice skates, lake edition. You can skate in anything.”

Then he gave each one of us a pair. Once we were all ready, we put on shoes, grabbed gloves, and a thermos of tea, then made our way outside.

The air hit us - cold, but so clear and fresh it made every breath feel like a cleansing. The sun glinted off the snow, and the trees sparkled with frost. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was magic.

The walk to the lake was downhill, a gentle slope through a narrow path framed with evergreens. Snow crunched beneath our boots, our voices echoing softly through the trees.

The lake was even more beautiful up close, a perfect oval of smooth, glittering ice ringed with trees like watchful sentinels. The sun reflected off its surface in dazzling patterns, and the silence around it was deep and tender, broken only by our steps and breath and the soft sound of Max humming something low and tuneless.

I turned to Nicole. She was smiling, eyes wide, cheeks flushed from the walk, and I had to look away for a moment. The light behind her turned her hair to gold.

Arthur was the first to reach the lake’s edge. He swept the snow off a long, half-buried log near the shoreline with his boot and motioned for us to sit. One by one, we took our places, adjusting our laces and tightening the straps of our detachable blades. The cold had reddened our noses and cheeks, but none of us seemed to mind. There was a kind of buzzing energy in the air, as if the lake had been waiting for us.

Arthur finished tying his own skates and stood, testing the blades on the snow-packed ground. “Right,” he said, extending a hand toward Hannah. “Come on, ballet dancer, show us how it’s done.”

She laughed and took his hand, wobbling slightly as he guided her to the lake. But the moment her feet touched the ice, something changed - her posture shifted, her balance settled, and she began to glide.

Hannah pushed off with a little spin, laughing over her shoulder as she moved in a slow, confident circle. Her scarf fluttered behind her like a ribbon.

Arthur helped everyone walk to the lake. Abraham took a few careful strides before finding his rhythm.

When it was my turn, I stepped onto the ice with cautious optimism. The blades made contact, my knees wobbled, and within three seconds I was flat on my back.

“Ow,” I said, mostly to the sky.

Hannah skated over in a flash. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just very horizontal.”

She offered her hand. “Come on. I’ll teach you.”

With her help, I managed a few shaky laps around the lake, slipping every other minute but laughing so much it didn’t matter. Nicole joined a few moments later, moving like someone who had watched skating in films but never tried it herself. She clung to my arm and we drifted along slowly, both of us giggling every time one of us nearly lost balance.

Max also didn't have a lot of experience. He skated slowly, without bending his knees at all.

It didn’t take long before Arthur called out, “Alright! Everyone form a train!”

Hannah, always the first to leap into fun, took Arthur’s hand. Maria grabbed onto Hannah. Then Abraham. Then me. Nicole grabbed me, Max took Nicole, and August latched onto Max.

At first, we moved slowly, skating in a wobbly line across the lake. But then he picked up speed, and we all shrieked as the wind hit our faces and the line began to curve and snake behind him. Nicole’s scarf flew into my face, I nearly knocked over Maria, and Max yelled something that sounded like a mix between “whoa!” and “why?!”

We were laughing too hard to hold on tight. The moment Arthur veered sharply, the entire line lost its balance like a tower of dominoes, and we all went tumbling into a snowdrift at the lake’s edge.

Everyone lay there for a moment, tangled in scarves and arms and mittens, laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe.

“I regret nothing,” Arthur said from somewhere beneath Abraham’s elbow.

Hannah wiped snow off her face. “Again!”

And so we did.

Then came a game of tag, which quickly devolved into total chaos. Arthur, predictably, was impossible to catch. Hannah turned out to be lightning fast.

We stayed on the lake for hours.

The sky shifted from pale gold to soft lavender, and the shadows of the trees stretched long across the ice. Our fingers grew stiff, our cheeks windburned, but none of us cared. For the first time in a long while, there were no classes, no rules, no expectations. Just light, and movement, and joy.

When the sun started to set down behind the treetops, Arthur skated to the center of the lake and clapped his hands over his head. “Alright, team,” he called. “I declare us officially alive!”

We cheered, breathless and happy.

Then we gathered our things and made our way back to the house, our blades in hand, the snow crunching underfoot. We were tired in that wonderful, satisfying way, the kind of tired that comes from fresh air and laughter and letting go.

And as we walked, I glanced over at Nicole, whose hand brushed mine more than once on the path.

We didn’t speak.

But in that golden silence, I thought: if freedom has a shape, maybe it looks like this.