Rough Draft.

Sometimes I write stories and sometimes I write memories. Here is a little bit of both I wrote with cold and frozen fingers just this morning. 

Happy December. Wear layers. 

We drove through the quiet, darkened streets that night, slowing in front of the brighter lit houses with colors of reds, greens, blues flashing and blinking into the night. The snow was piled up away from the roads and the sidewalks were clear. They were beautiful pieces of art and the work, delicate and deliberate, was thoughtfully shown. You parked the car at the top of the hill by the conservatory. The gardens were covered and hidden for the winter, but looking out into the night, the moon lit the snow-covered fountains in an eerie, peaceful glow. You reached across and took my hand, leaning in whispering for me to wait, your lips brushed my cheek gently and I couldn’t help but smile.

Getting out of the car, you raced around the back. I giggled and you opened my door, “Did you see me almost eat it back there?”

Grabbing my right hand you lead me out of the car and into your arms. You held me close and there was no way we could be cold. Probably never ever.

It had been a long week. We had fought and we had learned, and gotten so confused and altered. I hadn’t wanted anything, but you had wanted everything. And we didn’t know where to begin. But here, this night we let it go and we watched the lights and the flowers like you had done for many years before. This was my first time. We stayed apart, but I felt your hand reach for mine amongst the crowds. From behind me, I could feel your eyes watching, making sure I was happy.

It is all we really ever needed, the other to be happy. We wanted it s badly, we sometimes forgot to actually be happy.

Through the people we walked and viewed and laughed. I reached out and touched the rose, so delicate and perfect. It’s red colors floating through and deep in love it meant.

Walking out to the car, I began to hum my favorite Christmas song, and you begged me to sing it. Blushing and laughing, I slowly did until I realized you hadn’t started the car. You just sat there watching me sing. My voice shaky at first, until the joy of the season and beauty of the night rose through. Closing my eyes and growing in song, I fell in love all over again. Like that first night we left each other in my car singing those songs and not knowing what was coming next.

You leaned again, to my cheek and kissed me softly. I turned and caught your lip before you could move away.

“I don’t ever want to lose this.”

I didn’t mean the moment I meant what we had. The beauty of the day, the glory of the night, the laughing until we couldn’t, and then laughing some more. The nights we spent on that hill running and racing, chasing and living.

We drove along through the night again, your hand clasping mine, and holding tighter still. You parked the car again and we walked the streets. We watched the lights and strolled through the dark. You carried me through and we held each other close.