Winter's Farewell

By Cecilia Dey

How many times have I relived the same story? Clinging desperately to the ludicrous hope of a different ending, searching and observing with an overwhelming obsession all the possible outcomes of the repeatable situation. But alas, all good things must sooner or later come to an end; one cannot simply avoid the inevitable.

I can't help it though, you make me hope.

You: a whimsical character, warm personality; you would always make everything around you bloom. And me? You would never allow me to say I was the cold one, even though I was leaving frostbite wounds in my quake.

Many would say we weren't compatible, but we were each other's opposites, and opposites are supposed to attract each other, right?

But if it were "meant to be", why would it always end in the same way? I would constantly have to leave right when you were ready to arrive. Did I ever disappoint you?

And now, as we stand, hand in hand, hoarfrost twirling and intertwining with blossoms and warmth, I start to disappear as I melt. But I don't mind, there's no one else I'd rather be spending my last moments with. You hug me tightly, which only causes me to fade away faster... I couldn't care less.

You'd always be the one who would start everything, and I'd be the one who'd finish it. Or was it the other way around? I honestly can't tell, I guess it's merely a matter of one's perception. I suspect that in these occasions, you are the end of me, but then again I destroyed every single piece of your art, of your very complex and thought-out puzzle. What is worse?

I'm not complaining of the well known result of this situation though, after all, you were the one who created every leaf, every branch... every little detail I fell in love with.

And finally, I inhale my single and last breath, becoming a cold gust of wind that blows lightly against your face, softly caressing your cheek; the only remaining proof that I ever existed.

Maybe we'll see each other again?