It’s kind of a funny thing, but the snow makes me miss you more than ever before. Staring through the window at the dizzying wash of white reminds me of our whirlwind past.

It’s almost mesmerizing in its perfect poignancy. I find myself lost in the cloud of the swirling storm the same way I used to find myself lost in your eyes.

I sometimes wonder if it’s better to be lost and always looking. Once you’ve found yourself, maybe you’ve got nothing else to search for. And it somehow seems so… over.

This is what I think as I stare into the heart of the storm, remembering you.

We’ve got a story like the bittersweet sigh of a sad acoustic song.

I can almost picture you there, wherever you are. You stand by the window, and you can hear it, too. The soft crackle of the snow settling in against the curve of the earth. I know you can hear it. You were the only other one who could.

And it’s so cold.

But my heart longs to believe that, perhaps, you see the snow and think of me as well, waiting by a window.