White Lies

Back then I used to make banana-strawberry smoothies for breakfast and stored them in his big tall Grolsch glass. He put them in the balcony since it was colder there than in the fridge. We started to move out things from the fridge to the balcony. Chickens, fruits, veggies, my straciatella yoghurt, and mostly beers. The room did not become more spacious, but we enjoyed having the big freezer outside. Once in a while we opened the door just to feel the chillin’ breeze. I wrapped my self tighter in my red fleece blanket and yelled out half-laughing ‘Close the door, you’re killling me!’ He was reaching out for a chicken which is too far and the balcony floor was slippery . Shortly he fell flat on his butt. I laughed out loud completely and let my body slip out of the red fleece blanket.
We always stayed until late. Until too late. I love the quiet of the night while watching the falling snow. It was such a bliss to see my tiny world covered in a white blanket. All white and nothing else. ‘Look look! It’s the snow truck, it sprinkles salt onto the street.’ Again, we went out to the balcony without our winter jackets  on and felt the winter breeze. Very much refreshing and I wish I had pink blushes on both of my cheeks. ‘I wanna be a snowtruck driver!’ He did not respond as if affraid to loose his balance if he open his mouth. ‘I think being a snowtruck driver is very humanist.’

Though the snow finally melts down and surely I am happy for extra sunshine, but I guess the memory of winter never fades away. The entire memory of him also stays, but to my preference, I would love to keep him as a part of my winter scenes.  Only.

That Rockaway feeling

I can feel it’s ending. That Sundays, when everyone rushed to the beach just because we had unseasonably warm weather in late September, ...