It's been a while. Like a legit while. Almost a year if I had to guess. I'd say things like "it's nice to see you" and "you look great!", but they'd be lies. You weren't very nice to me when we met last. I wasn’t in a good place and neither were you. People tell me that you were milder than usual, but that didn’t stop you from throwing me for quite the loop. I wasn’t ready. There’s no way that I could have been. People tried to warn me. They told me you were coming. It’s not that I didn’t believe them, but exactly how does one prepare for a complete inversion of the way things were just days ago? Socks and scarves were only the beginning of it. I wasn’t prepared for the darkness, the sadness, the isolation. I didn’t know what to expect from you.
You, with your slow sunrises and crisp early mornings.
You, with your frosted glass and frost bitten fingers.
You, with your assumed joy, and twinkling lights.
You, with your short days and long relentlessly cold nights.
You, with your community events and communicable diseases.
You, with your gingerbread this, and peppermint that.
You, with your deserted streets and empty train cars,
You, with your sudden beginning and subtle end.
Be kind to me, okay?