Sixth Letter

VI.

a Wednesday, you wore grey

Dearest Winter,

You were tired today. I could tell by the way you moved, it was slower than usual, it looked more like something's weighing you down. And something happened that I was not prepared for, I did not just want to watch you look tired. I wanted to help. I could confidently say that my mind, heart, and body were in perfect sync for the first time in awhile, it wanted to cross the room and ask what was wrong and actually be the person you told things to, actually be permitted inside whatever was making you heavy.

I have never wanted that before. I have been so careful to want only what was safe to want, the distant things, the harmless things, the watching from across the room. And now here is this new wanting, this dangerous one, terrifying. The one that wants to be useful to you, to be known by you, to be the name you reach for when the day has been too long. You are always filled of cloudy subtleties I am more than willing to spend a lifetime figuring out.

I stayed where I was. Of course I stayed where I was.

But it cost more than it used to.

staying, and hating it more each time