Excerpts

20

"Dear Mrs. Infatuation,

Imagine a Cold Summer where snow fell and blanketed the vibrant green grass, and children stayed inside wrapped in thick clothing. A feeling of wonder and a look of amazement would surely cross a young child's face as they stared up to the sky. But none the less, the dark snow clouds would be hanging ominously in the air, drifting precariously in a single direction, careful not to let the wind sway it from it's path. Now imagine a Warm Winter where as the snow fell from the Heavens, the fire in the sky melted every drop, turning it all into rain. Then as every single droplet of water soaked into the earth, tiny roots sprouted from seeds and small flowers popped up from the ground seeking the sun and it's most vital source of life: water.

So Mrs. Infatuation, this Warm Winter comes with a clear rain that washes all the doubt and the pain away and let's it all seep into the cracks in the pavement and the holes of the roof. I could never begin to explain the moments when this rain and it's clarity dribbled down into the very core of my soul and washed away all the feeling in my limbs only to replace it with butterflies in my stomach. As I felt this clear rain, only having known the harsh blizzard of the Cold Summer, I started to take notice that a few droplets could never be enough. I soaked up what I could only asking for more like it was a drug and I was the addict, and my addiction was the first fallen rain that could melt any snow that decided to coat my heart.

Then once, long ago, a memory tucked away, but not forgotten, was rediscovered. It was a moment when  two separate pieces of a soul came together and melded into one all because of one spirit passing through. Take heed to remember when Mr. Endearment swept by like the first leaf marking the beginning of autumn and the end of the summertide. It was the season of vivid colors when we all lay our imaginations on our desks and hundreds of white papers with words written in black ink were meticulously placed in front of our eyes. There was no Summer to pass in front of Mr. Endearment and you were open to the idea of letting rain fall from above. So, I sit here surrounded and enveloped by the white snow, a realization whisking the rain away and replacing it with the Cold.

I would have loved to hold my own snow and watch it melt in my hands and drip away into the ground. After a painstaking time, I finally began to realize that it never would. You held everything for Mr. Endearment. You both had your pinky fingers wrapped tightly around one another; wound so tightly not even I could break the contact long after you've broken my own. I could never wrap my small pinky around your's as your's was already taken and mine was too stiff to move, frozen by the snow. Sadly, that is all that you are and can be for me: an infatuation. You may believe that Mr. Endearment is the first and the last to pass through the Gates of Adoration. On the contrary, as he might have been the first, but he most certainly was not the last to ever fall straight from Heaven like rain in a Warm Winter.
                                  In deepest regards,
                                  One Cold Summer"