It’s raining and the ground is covered in snow. It’s sloppy wet like a kiss from grandma at Christmas time when you remember to wear the sweater she knit you. Raindrops cling to brown branches and swell.

Then they fall.

Remember fall? Fires in friend’s backyards? A man I have never met once said, “I love all the seasons and how they stretch me.” I feel the most stretched in winter. I’m always a day away from depression, but I still love the snow. Still love the quiet that is only known by a December night. Still love you even though we’ve never met.

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