I felt the chill around me and everything stood still. My skin is clenching onto the warmth from my bones. Im baby-faced and smiling- still growing in my own way. My cheeks still rise and I can laugh like I never lost the sound. I look older now, but wear my wrinkles internally. The curls on my head still make me feel brave and my cheeks are lined with freckles that lightly faded over the years. The snow reaches for me and I stand in silence- welcoming it like a prayer. There’s somthing calm about the snowfall- how each flake greets me like it needs me. I’m locking arms with Tom on Patricia Drive. He leads me like a gentleman and I smile at his courtesy. He asks why living here feels like a lifetime ago and I tell him that’s not a question I’m meant to answer. He looks grown now. His once lanky, boy-like appearance filled with color and bigger bones. His hair in perfect fashion with a beard that lines his jaw. I ask him if we will always long to drunkly roam this road. To know the porch light is still on and I’m home. To know my parents are inside with open arms and the safety of it all. His cologne stays on my sweater and it comforts me for the rest of the night. I notice the new owners of the house painted the front door. I can still see my father sitting in his chair typing away on his computer, telling us the difference between believing in something more than this world and sinking into the challenges of it all. Tom and I walk a few houses down. We reminisce on the feeling of being invincible and I think for a period of time, we truly were. I tell him a piece of our souls are buried here, and even though my dad now lives in heaven, he’s still our peace. Still our safety and guidance. This is still our home. Tom looks down at me- teeth perfectly aligned from braces he reluctantly wore decades ago. A silk scarf tucked inside his long wool coat- my dad would be proud of what became of him. He finally says, “I think it’s time to head back” I laugh and make a joke about having a curfew. I tell him that in another life we’d be married and our laughter echoes down Patrica Drive like it did years ago. The trees reach out and catch the sound. They rememberer that noise and hold onto it for safekeeping. I promise to visit the willows again. My headlights illuminate the old road- now filled with potholes and patchwork of asphalt. I’ve moved miles from here and life changed with the passing time- it always does. It shifted in such sad ways, but there is beauty in it too. The chill in the air stings less and we take one final look at the front porch light. I swear it glistens a little brighter in my rear view mirror. When it bobs out of view, my heart sinks to my stomach. I feel burning in the corners of my eyes as a sea of tears grow angry inside me. My mascara begins to run down my cheeks like a beautiful mess. Maybe the house is saying farewell. Maybe it misses us in ways we can’t imagine. Maybe it’s healing too. -AMT ©️