i. snowflakes - 12/1
The snow is different in New York. For one thing, it’s thicker: Portland saw maybe two, three inches of it a year, but here, it’s more like twenty. Right now, I’m wearing three sweaters and my purple mittens that have a hole because of that one time they got caught in the door of your car, and I’m still cold. I love snow, as you well know, but I’m a Florida girl at heart and winter will never really be my season.
The people in New York are different too, because a lot of them seem in too much of a hurry to care about the snow, which is sad because it’s so pretty. They rush to work, to school, to dinner with their mom, and they leave it trampled and dirty underfoot. It’s nice when it’s falling, though, as all things are. Everything is lovely until it hits the ground.
Actually, a lot of things are different in New York. It’s very crowded and busy and loud, and they’re not lying when they say it’s the city that never sleeps, because it doesn’t. Portland was a big city too, bigger than where I grew up, anyway, but there were more trees and less people and when I’d take a deep breath it didn’t feel like I was breathing someone else’s air.
Also, in Portland, there was you.
Back in Portland, which really I should call home because that’s what it has come to mean to me—back home, it was Sam and Ellery. Ellery and Sam. In New York, it’s only Ellery. And even though your name is only three letters long, it fills more space than you know.
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dedicated to mariam because i never wrote that one chapter in ellery's point of view that i promised her, so i'm writing this instead. also because she's adorable.
