It was freezing this morning, and for whatever reason, it had me thinking about New York. And how it snowed in Central Park, such a brilliant white. I almost fell numerous times, and tree branches sparkled in the morning mist. Up and down the avenues we ventured, our breath dissolving before us. It took everything in me not to start a snowball fight with you – a spontaneous burst, like fallen stars and angel aura quartz. Clusters of flakes beneath Christmas trees of December 26. The paths were carved with flannel footprints and ice kisses. A piano playing softly when you took me into the Trump Building. And we scarfed down turkey burgers and ate so many sweet potato fries. And I couldn’t help but think what a sweet memory this would make someday.
And now, I wish more than ever that I could forget these things. That they didn’t feel like just yesterday and maybe I can just stop, for one damn second, wondering what could have been. Because none of that is what is. We are not holding hands in an ice skate rink, and I have to forget the hunt for the abominable snowman. There is no dog sledding, no rides on the polar express, and no rosy cheeks. It’s just freezing. And everything is cold.
– Samantha Prasad