for everyone else also waiting for the cold depths of winter to melt away into springtime breezes. you are not alone.
winter winds_
swinglifeawayxx
suggested soundtrack; "misguided ghosts" - paramore, "you" - switchfoot, "as i wind down the pines" - the tragically hip; listen as you read if you wish. they are all beautiful songs.
And if your strife strikes at your sleep
Remember spring swaps snow for leaves
You'll be happy and wholesome again
When the city clears and sun ascends
The winter winds rattle the windows in their frames. She sighs and watches as the branches thrash about in the falling snow beyond the glass.
The snow is crippling her, the cold seeping into her very bones, into her very soul. Her bones ache, her mind spins, and every day the world gets darker. The days get shorter, the nights get longer; the sun sleeps in its own warm solitude while the moon shines its teasing light over a dark world.
When will the spring come? She begs him to answer her question in the dark of the night, those moments when he holds her tightly in his arms, willing her to forget the cold and go to sleep, sleep away the winter nightmares.
It will come when it's ready, he whispers, running his warm fingers through her hair, over her skin. She is so icy these days, cold all over. He pulls her closer, trying to radiate his warmth into her skin…it just radiates right back into him. Her freezing fingers find their way to his back, digging into the warm, smooth expanse, nails biting. He winces, but pulls her closer still.
She longs for the refreshing breezes of the spring air.
When will the spring come? she asks him again, watching as he stokes the fire in the hearth, imagining that the heat will seep into her. She knows it won't – it never does.
Soon, he promises, though he knows he is lying. They both know the spring will not come for months, that the desolate winter world will prevail, keeping the ice on the ground and the snow in the air, and the biting winter winds on her cheeks.The spring will come soon.
When he falls asleep that night, she watches the rise and fall of his chest, watches his thick, beautiful eyelashes rest on his warm, smooth cheeks. She watches his fingers twitch and tighten around he waist as he buries his face into her cold skin. She watches as his eyelids flicker with his dreams of the past, of the warm days when she used to smile, laugh, live. She watches him tirelessly, diligently, as she shivers through the wintry hours of the night.
He reminds her of springtime, of hope. She does not trust in hope.
He lays on the bed every morning and watches through the open door as she turns the water on to scalding hot, watches the steam envelop her figure as she strips out of her clothing, one piece at a time. He watches as she steps slowly, carefully into the shower, gasping as the hot water touches her frozen skin. It is the only time of day when she truly smiles.
He watches for what seems like forever, each day, without fail. He watches her hands run through her hair, ridding it of the dirt and angst and sadness that covers it during her days. She washes her skin, ridding it for only a moment of winter's chill. She stands under the water, holding herself, hiding from winter's winds. He watches, tears pooling in his mocha eyes, as he looks at her gain the warmth she will never be able to get from him. The tears pool as he watches her comfort herself in the only way she knows how.
And when the hot water runs out and the stream turns cold, she sinks to the ground under it, holding herself tightly, tears streaming down her face. He slowly gets out of the bed, just like every other morning, walking through the lingering steam. He opens the opaque curtain, his hands reaching to turn off the icy water. He takes a towel from the hook and kneels down, wrapping it around the distraught girl. He lifts her into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest and the cries roll from her throat. He feels the frozen water from her hair seep into his shirt as she whimpers softly,
When will the spring come?
She sits in front of the fire, staring out the front window, watching the endless flakes drift down onto the shivering trees.
She thinks to herself that she has never been unhappier. She has never been so defeated. She has never been so cold.
[Will the spring never come?]
One day, he convinces her to leave the house, to go for a quiet walk to the river, just like they used to. He says it will remind her of the summer, and, hey, the summer is even brighter than the springtime.
He carefully, lovingly bundles her in layers; two of his sweaters, his warmest jacket, her favorite scarves, mittens, jeans, three pairs of socks, warm boots, and her favorite knit hat. He himself only puts on a sweater and a jacket with his jeans and boots. The cold has never much affected him. Besides, he feels the warmth returning to the world; he can feel it in his bones.
He holds her hand and leads her slowly into the world for the first time in a long time. She looks scared, defeated, unwilling, and his heart warms as he realizes that she is only doing this for him, to make him happy again. He squeezes her fingers as they walk down the familiar path to the water, the path they hadn't walked in many months. She looks about at the white world and huddles closer to him, as though afraid the trees will bend down to her height and bury her amidst their snow-covered branches. He whispers a vow to keep her safe.
They finally reach the old arches bridge, covered in a light dusting of snow, glistening in the late winter sunlight. The water can be seen trickling beneath it's thin sheen of ice, gray and shining.
You see? he whispers in her ear, Things are beginning to change.
She peeks out from beneath the brim of her hat as his chin rest upon her head, his chest presses into her back. Her eyes search the world around her, taking it all in. She sees the sunshine, feels its light on her face. She hears the rush of water from the places where the ice has broken, given way to the fury of the trapped river. She sees their matching footprints in the snow, leading to the very spot where they stand. She sees the green of the pine trees, everlasting through the snows of the long winter. She sees life around her. She feels the air changing, turning to something new. But most of all, she notices the absence of those bitter winter winds.
He watches in wonder as her eyes liven, the dead ice slowly melting away from their deep irises. He sighs as he sees the sunlight reflecting in them. He watches as he cheeks brighten, red glowing on their smooth expanses, watches as she reaches up to slowly unwind the scarf from around her neck, allowing the air to reach her skin for the first time in a long time. His heart leaps as her lips twitch slightly, then again, and again, and suddenly a smile is growing upon her beautiful face.
She turns in his arms, looking up into his perfect face, his unkempt hair falling into his happy eyes. She leans up tentatively and captures his warm lips in her own, pressing herself into him.
He lets out a joyful laugh as they finally break apart, his hands reaching up to run across her lips and cheeks and throat, and feeling the warmth finally there again. She smiled up at him contently.
Nick, she whispered, her lips blooming red, The spring is coming.
fin.
it feels wonderful to be writing again. what did you think?