Hit the Ground Running

It was mid-afternoon when I was awoken by a phone call telling me I didn’t have to work this evening, due to the snow. I rolled out of bed and showered, and looked outside. The earth was covered in white, pure and foreign. There I was with four days off in front of me. There was only one thing to do: pile on the layers, lace up the boots, and head out into the cold to buy some wine.
I wrapped my Gryffindor scarf around my mouth and locked the door behind me. The wind was mild. I plodded along the sidewalk, the ground giving beneath me, transformed. The sounds of my finally complete winter mix in my ears. The snow had settled. The streets were new to me. I walked happily, with barely any cars passing by. The light from the streetlamps illuminated everything; the red and white flags of the Arby’s, the temperature and time on display at Washington Mutual, the library closed due to inclement weather.
I reached the Safeway and took off my headphones. I found the wine and bought a loaf of bread for later and went back out into the cold winter air. I walked with the music playing, plastic bags banging and twisting against my legs, joyfully trudging through the soft snow. It is a strange phenomenon how the way back always seems so much quicker.
I reached home and prepared a pot of tea. The cat’s water bowl had long since been coated white, and I filled their empty food bowl. Later that evening there were paw prints in the snow, and I smiled.
I had such plans for the evening. After all, I had expected to have to work tonight. With the extra time, I was ready to throw myself into productivity with gusto: what was I waiting for? I drank the tea and made some soup and started a load of laundry. Not long after, Ryan arrived home and began telling me all about a girl he’d met during his trip to Canada. How well it had gone. I pulled the corkscrew from the drawer.
We started with the one and a half liters of Gato Negro Cabernet I bought from Safeway. He broke open the Chateau Lorane Raspberry Mead, and then we opened a bottle of Vin de Savoie. Some French wine.
We talked and drank and listened to music in my bedroom. It was lovely to see him so happy; he never really talked to girls, was never so smitten as I saw him then. Who cared how it would turn out? He is happy now. We listened to The Long Winters and my winter mix and sat together in the dark, lit only by candles. A holy moment. Two Cancers together, feeding off one another, sustaining one another. I love that boy. How lucky am I to have such a roommate?
Eventually we finished the third bottle and he was getting sleepy. I took him by the hand and walked him downstairs, tucked him in, and went back to my room.
So he is asleep, and I am here. I have three days off. Despite all that has been going on, things are so fucking good. I will throw myself into disciplines that have fallen by the wayside. I will write and meditate and call friends and write Christmas cards and send out copies of the winter mix. I will write letters and buy candles and walk in the snow again.
All we have is now. So let’s go play and be thankful that we can be here together. For fuck’s sake, what else can we ask for? We should be thankful for every second we have. We should hold hands and sing songs and be glad to be alive.
Our time is now. It really is all we have.
I want more nights like this.