The Timeless Library

35. Winters Left Behind

That night, bundled up in my warmest jacket, I steeled myself and finally stepped out into the harsh weather that awaited me outside. It felt like I had entered another world. Everything that stood outside the comfort of my home was completely blanketed in white, enveloped in a relentless blizzard that dazzled my eyes and stung my ears. I pulled down the hat on my head and crossed my arms, saving up my strength for the road ahead.

Slowly but surely, I treaded through this winter 'wonderland'. Though most of my attention was dedicated to watching my step, I still managed to admire the unfamiliar scenery of this street I knew so well. The yellow hue of the street lamps, though at first seemingly dim and muted, bounced off the white surroundings and gave the sky an odd twilight hue. Thanks to this light I managed to spot the outline of a bicycle half-buried in the snow. I assumed was tied to some pole underneath, though I couldn't quite tell. Its owner wouldn't come back to it for some time, that much was clear.

I walked by a tall sign plastered in snow and dripping with icicles, the words "one way" barely visible. I happened to be walking in the opposite direction, but nobody was around to complain about it.

A worn-down building stood at my destination, centuries old and covered in an equally ancient ivy. Those roots had been on those walls for as long as I could remember; and yet, covered in snow as they were at that moment, they looked sinister to me, like veins on an old hand. Still, seeing the comfort of the small lights coming through the windows, I was more than happy to enter the building and leave the hostile winter behind.

The warmth inside overwhelmed my cold body, so I made haste to remove the extra layers that had been so vital to my sanity outdoors. I must have looked pretty silly, in retrospect, making my way to the table where my friend awaited me while juggling my hat and gloves and shimmying my way out of my jacket. My friend, Kathy, was kind enough not to bring up the trail of melting snow I left behind throughout all this. Instead, she just smiled and gestured for me to make myself comfortable.

"I already ordered our favorite," she said right as the waiter arrived with two steaming bowls of noodle soup, and I thanked the stars for such an awesome friend.

We both dug into our meals as we always did. There wasn't much to talk about, since we were always messaging each other on our phones, but her presence next to me made the silence all the sweeter. I made sure to savor every second, especially on that particular evening.

"I'm really going to miss this, you know." I meant those words, for once.

"Then stay," Kathy said matter-of-factly, with her bitter words and harsh tone. Oh, Kathy.

"You know I can't do that."

"I know. I mean, I get it, but I don't like it."

"I don't like it either."

"You don't get to say that. You made this choice-moving to another freaking continent."

"Well, yeah. It's the best thing for me. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

After that small exchange, our conversation shifted to our more usual topics. Though my imminent departure hung over both of our heads, things felt as they always did over the course of the rest of our meal. Gossiping while we finished our soup, exchanging stories while we treated ourselves to dessert... reality only finally hit us for good when the check arrived.

"I guess this is it, huh?" Kathy said as she set down her half of the bill.

"Just physically," I answered in an attempt to comfort both of us. I was ready to continue reassuring her that I'd message her every day, but then Kathy did something unexpected for the first time since I'd known her: she hugged me, just like that, out of the blue. All of my words caught in my throat, and though I'm pretty used to departures, this one suddenly became very hard to deal with. We hugged each other as tightly as we could, knowing it would be the last time in years we'd be able to. My memory of the rest of the evening, honestly, is a bit blurry.

I still talk to Kathy every day, of course: she sends me funny internet jokes, I show her pictures of my latest recipes. Time spent talking to her is as pleasant as it has always been. Still, I would go back to that insufferable winter any day, if only to feel the warmth of her embrace once again.