New York City. The brisk winter air is a familiar sting on my face. Everywhere I look, I am reminded of good times together with you. How we happened to have matching Columbia winter jackets. Your dark brown one, worn out from years against the bitter Northeast cold, and my lime-yellow one with scruffs from skiing. How we walked the same streets together each weekend and crunched through small layers of snow.
How we would hold hands through the holiday crowds. Somehow, through both of our thick mittens, I could still feel the warmth of your hands. How, I liked to hold your mitten-hand and stuff both ours into your jacket pocket to keep away from the wind and force our bodies to be even closer together as we walked. Those are the sweetest moments that make me smile even now.
No matter how cold, I often wanted to stay out just because it meant you and I were together, and for those moments, I can feel the magic of the city. I feel such an emotional pull to you. How the lights and crowds surrounded us, yet somehow, I felt that is was just the two of us. Those are my happiest moments. It was for those brief times where there were no thoughts of work or stress or the future and I wanted to stop time and be with you in those moments forever.
It is yet another winter, and as I walk the city streets alone, I like to imagine the day you’ll finally be back to hold my hand and keep me warm; and never let go.
