Months passed like dreams, never knowing where each one ended and the next one began.
Summer was always blistering, but it was just as nice having the heat beat down on your brow. It made you feel alive-like every feasible cell in your body would come to rise along with the sun.
Any problems you may have had evaporated on the sidewalks, hardly ever being caught on an occasional breeze.
Fall was like settling. It was calm and quiet and it gave you time to appreciate what you had-what you both have, now.
You'd smile because the thought itself amused you-how beautiful the shades and hues were, but no more than he himself standing before you under the trees that had already turned a much deeper red. Catching your eye, he smiles back at you and the world had never felt so grounded-so sure. A voice echoed deeply inside of you. How did you get here, it asks-did it really matter? Time goes on.
The most somber moments are in the winter.
Before the inscription, you both stand and the silence that forms between you resonated more cold than was there before. Your tears are warm as they collect, but cool while they drip and something inside of you feels like this will never end. 'All that is left', you think as you look to him-though he can never look,he never has. You press his wet face against the crook of your cold shoulder, away from the memory.
When spring comes you're confident that when the cycle repeats itself again, you'll have visited an old friend.