november 2024

I read somewhere that the transition from one season to another can be hard for people processing loss. We split at the end of winter, and when spring and summer came, they felt like a breath of fresh air. The sun warmed my skin, kissing my mornings, and the heat felt bearable, almost cleansing. For me, it was the opposite of what I read. I thrived in the summer, far from the chill of winter. I never liked the cold, and I reveled in its absence.

But now it’s the end of November, and I’m beginning to feel you all over again. Memories of where we were just a year ago have found their way back to me, reminding me of how far you slipped away. My body tingles as I write this, a rush of emotions bringing me back to that cold night in January.

I knew winter was your favorite season. You loved the hints of ice in the air, and it was even better when the sky cried. Rain was your favorite, with the way it softened the world and the way it smelled; a raw and earthy perfume of Mother Nature. I thought I loved it too, so I tried to see it through your eyes. I looked out for those colors, those textures in the sky. I took deeper breaths, searching for the notes of rain you spoke of so fondly.

But now, as we transition into winter again, I find myself feeling you in ways I haven’t in so long. It’s strange, foreign, like revisiting that cold winter. And I don’t think I want this; this feeling.