I’d be lying to myself if I said that the reason I wrote you was not because I missed you, but because I really, really wanted closure. Closure is but a weak substitute for the real thing. It’s something we tell ourselves that if we just settled things like human beings, then we could move on like them as well, as we should. Closure is something that comes and passes with time and emotion. Once closed, you do not return. You may sit and wallow in sadness, drown yourself in your emotions until you emerge free, beautiful and ready to continue with your life. No, I did not write to you for that to happen. I do not want to move on. I refuse to wallow in sadness – not because I would be happy if we seriously parted ways, but because I simply do not want to part. You see, I still love you even after all we’ve been through; even after all you’ve done to me.
So please, hear me out, and maybe – just maybe, we’ll find we have something special once again.
▀ ▀ ▀ ▀
I grabbed my worn knit mittens and shoved my hands into them. I looked outside for the second time that morning and smiled. It was definitely a great skating day. My white figure skating boots were hung by the front door by their laces. The leather had softened over the years and hugged by feet like an old friend. I had the ability to skate all day without forming blisters. My little brother once tried to throw them out, saying they looked grungy and disgusting. This was odd coming from a seven-year-old boy who – at the time the comment was made – was covered in mud from a full spring day of splashing in the puddles. Thank god I was in the kitchen doing my homework or he would have made his sweet way to the dumpsters down the street and tossed them like an old kitchen rag.
The snow crunched beneath my boots as I made my way to the frozen lake behind my house. We shared it with many other houses in the area, since it was so big. My house, though, sat in a small forest area in a corner of the lake, secluded from all the others. We could just make out a house across from us. Here, I was able to skate peacefully and quietly; even my mom and, surprisingly my brother, would leave me alone. Well, sometimes at least.
I dropped the skates and sat on an old, dry tree stump. I couldn’t see the house from here, for a large tree trunk blocked my view. I slipped off my boots and slipped on my oldest friends. From there, time lost its meaning. Round and round I went, practicing my jumps and twists. At times, I skated as fast as I could: pure adrenaline. The cold air swept my hair from my face and stung my eyes. It made my nose run and eyes water, but it didn’t matter for I was one with the wind and one with the ice – one with nature and its soft sounds.
Other times, I would skate slow, listening to the ice shift beneath me as it did its natural expanding and contracting. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set did I realize I had been out there for hours. I had started just before noon.
As I made my way towards my boots, I came back to reality. I started to feel the cold seep into my toes, fingers, bones and butt. I unlaced them, slipped them off. My boots were ice cold from being vacant for so long.
Heading back towards the house with my skates in my hand, I watched my feet, carefully not stepping on ice patches or huge banks of snow. That’s why his voice made me scream.
“Hey pumpkin.” My dad muttered. I let out a small scream and looked up. You could see his breath as he breathed.
“Hi dad. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
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