Spring in Midwinter
Midwinter offered a serene calm no other time of year could. I’d always loved the snow, how it crunched beneath my feet yet still soothed the soul, how it stole my breath in misting ghosts, how it numbed my fractured mind. I longed for it, yearned for it, prayed for its porcelain perfection. No words could’ve changed my opinion. You didn’t need them.
Your eyes shone against the season’s stark charms, sparkled in the midwinter light; green like Spring, they overflowed with life. We passed each other with a polite smile, you stopping to ask the time. I forgot the church clock rose behind me, a looming spectre, a reminder of time and its effects; you looked straight at it. Still, I placed my flowers as I did each Sunday, pulled up a sleeve and laughed as I realised it the wrong one. That was the first time I’d laughed in almost two years. You smiled again; I lost my heart to it.
That’s how a new stage of my life began and an old one ended. You did that for me. You saved me from myself with a green-eyed wink.
Midwinter remained my favourite part of the year, always would, but for better reason than before. I celebrated it as the time I met you.