It is almost midnight, and I was woken up with the odd chilly temperature here in Cincinnati.*
This has been the coldest temperature I have been into. My phone’s weather app dictated its -2 degrees Celsius. I looked through the window, and it was raining.
“That’s snow!” I gasped. I realized I am seeing it for the first time.
As I stared blankly at the dark sky, I realized I have been away from home for two weeks now. And much like how the sky lets each rain drop-turned-ice fall, tears started forming and falling from my eyes. Inch by inch, the crystal clear drop of rain rushes to the ground but is slowly turning opaque. Opaque because the tears started to fall now, right on cue, as the chilly breeze blew gently on the trees outside.
It reminded me of how I first met you, nine years back.
I was rushing to go home from doing an errand, when the rain suddenly poured heavily. With almost wet clothes and no umbrella, I ran to the nearest shed I saw. But as I reached that small space in that nearby store, I saw you running towards that same space I aimed for. You smile when I got to the place first. But I was so smitten by that smile that I asked you to share that small space with me—even if it means we will just be saving half of our bodies and clothes dry.
I noticed that as the droplets rush to fall to the ground, the wind scattered them as if trying to impede their eventual falling and sustaining them in the air a little bit longer. But these droplets eventually fell on the grounds. I realized they are like frozen tear drops.
Frankly speaking, you got me that very moment you smiled. After almost half an hour of rain, I learned that you are going to the mall near my place to catch a bus going home. I also learned that you were a nurse and the many things you did just so you can practice your profession and support your family.
I invited you home to get yourself dry before you go your way and carry on—my way of spending a little more time with you and get to know you more. In such a brief and weird place to meet someone, I realized we shared common grounds and interests. It tickles my mind when I toy with the idea that we grew apart, yet we were destined to meet, and share stories of how we were raised.
I rushed outside to see for myself snow, for the first time. But as I touch the ground and feel the coldness of the raindrops-turned-ice, they eventually melted and turned back to water that the ground slowly sipped.
I was mending a broken heart the day I met you. But your presence made me forget that since then. But after nearly a year, I had to break your heart. Not because I don’t feel anything for you anymore, but because you didn’t include me in your future plans—that one hurt me the most. It took me a painful 7 years to get over you.
That’s the snow flurry effect—opaque and frozen water crystals that were sustained in the air. It fell to the ground, and eventually liquefied, returning to where it all started.
And the cycle goes.
The feeling of seeing snow, gave me the shiver similar to the first time I touched your hand. That’s the same feeling I had every time you call my full name that sounded so sweet. That’s what brings butterflies to my stomach every time I got to meet you and be with you.
But the eventual meltdown of it reminded me of a colorful world that was crushed -the happy, bright and sunny day I knew turned into the gloomy, dark and rainy and cold weather.
I still think our story could have been beautiful. But I’m thankful that you drove me away. I found a new story to tell the world, and I know this new story will be more beautiful than ours.
That is the past.
And that is where it will always be.
*Written November 2011 while at Cincinnati, Ohio, USA