By: Gabriela Yareliz
We will be the ones to run around in warm summer rain, until we are soaked and our chests are heaving from so much laughter.
Our hair, stuck like wet yarn, on our faces and skin. Raindrops will run in paths paved by tears long ago. Sweet heat; and sweet healing.
We’ll shine, blinding, like the flashes of lightning; and we will chase the moon, hand-in-hand.
We will be the ones who waltz down an empty street, with twinkling string lights and autumn leaves as cover. Our hearts will soar, as the leaves bow in their beauty to rest.
As nature begins to fall asleep, our spirits will be nourished by the glow of autumn light and the smell of warm spices.
And in a world painted orange, we’ll decorate the home that is us, with soft grass, pumpkins, and glossy red apples where we can see our reflections. Cinnamon, our fairy dust.
We will be the ones to count snowflakes on your car window. We’ll be the ones to adore the sparkling lights in cold darkness. We’ll acknowledge the magic of long nights. We’ll bake in our thick sweaters; our hearts and the sweat collecting in the pockets of our collarbones will remind us how sweet it is to be alive.
Gloved fingers will lock, and we’ll walk, seeing every subtle miracle that glitters in obscure corners. We’ll skate, even if we fall, for all good things have that risk. The cold will remind us to not let go.
We will be the ones who buy the first flowers for spring. Our hearts, growing and swelling, with hopes renewed, energy and freedom. We’ll walk in abundance of light.
We’ll sit on park benches, ignoring that it’s too cold to be wearing short sleeves. We’ll guide each other through cherry blossom petal rains. We’ll explore like the timid nature, awakening.
It’s blooming, blossoming, running through cycles and seasons. It’s ready to withstand the next heat wave; torrential rain; autumn chill; blanket of snow; and a reawakening by soft spring light that reminds it that it’s alive.
This love is alive.