It’s the first cold wind you feel that makes you reconsider leaving your apartment without a jacket. It’s the blanket of brightly colored leaves over frosted grass in the early morning, a cup of hot tea in your hand as you finally have time to open a book you’ve been wanting to read. It’s the slight shivers of smiling faces as they await the impending snow, just to fade into the background when the first few flakes fall. It’s the thick, warm, cozy sweaters you wear without a scarf or hat so you can still feel the breeze whipping through your body. It’s the scarf and hat you’re sure to wear when you go outside next time to avoid getting another cold. It’s watching hot breath appear in the air in front of you as you laugh in a tornado of leaves. It’s the memory of a first kiss under the bleachers, and a childhood of jumping in piles of raked leaves with your best friend. It’s many reddened noses sniffling as a mother makes you and fellow neighbors hot chocolate, all the while chastising you for staying out too long in the cold. It’s shared giggles over said hot chocolate as you remember all the fun you were having, you never wanted it to end. It’s waving goodbye as you head to college, hesitant to leave the comforts of home, but ready for the next adventure your life has prepared for you. It’s spending days in the park with family, nights out with your friends, and early mornings cuddling closer to the additional heat in your bed. It’s soft, lazy kisses to convince you to stay in the warm comfort of their embrace (not that you’d ever want to leave anyways) and the quiet groans of the cold floor when you finally get up for the day. It’s also convincing them to stay in bed when your days off don’t match up. It’s coaxing them out from under the covers with a mug full of steaming coffee and the promise of breakfast. It’s bundling them up despite their protests as they prepare to brave the cold, they aren’t as impervious as they think they are. It’s making them soup when they’re stuck home the next week sick, you laugh, and wrap them in more blankets. It’s evenings sitting near a fire, sock-bound feet stuck as close as you dare, a book in your lap as they bring you a glass of wine. It’s the whisper of “I love you” when they think you’re asleep, and you curl even closer into their embrace in response.

It’s the sad, final “goodbye” as you place flowers on a frozen grave the day of your anniversary, creaking knees not allowing you to rise without pain.

It’s the the longed for greetings of “hello” and “I missed you” when you finally get to see them again.