The first fall of snow came quietly yesterday. the litter of white seemed out of place, scattered carelessly across the dying green. It was almost as if winter was trying to force itself through autumn. I don’t understand yet the beauty of the wintertide. I cannot see anything gentle past the mist, and so I prayed for spring and grieved for how far away it is. And when I left my gloves in the backseat of the car I suddenly thought of you. Did you also shove your hands into your pockets when the weather starts to pale? Just like me, were you trying to stand still and ignore the cold as if it will go away? Whenever I experience something new in my life I always find time to briefly think of you. And at this moment, with the frost crowding me from all sides, I wonder what you thought of the ice, the snow, and the rain. Maybe you loved it, craved it even. Maybe you bloomed in winter the same way flowers do, and you miss it just as much as I miss spring. You treated the storm as if it was your sun with gloves resting above the dashboard. Seeing you treat something so violent with so much fondness made me wonder if you can teach me what it means to walk underneath the silhouette of branches. If you can take both my hands in yours and remind me that even winter can be warm.
- A.Z, winter can be warm too, from my collection of letters to my future husband