The snowflakes are falling, but I can't enjoy them. I am sitting on the cold ground, my knees pulled to my chest. I can't bring myself to leave. I won't abandon you, not today.

A few tears escape my eyes and freeze as they run down my cheeks. I wipe away their remains and let out a sigh. My breath is visable in the cold air, and I sniff a little. I remember how you used to hate winter. You used to tell me how nothing could grow beneath the snow, and that you couldn't stand a season where nothing grew. I have a surprise for you, though. I pull the flower out of my coat pocket. It's pink petals and yellow center are a pure contrast to the white snow.

"It's a Camellia," I say outloud. I feel sort of silly, staring at your tombstone as if I'm awaiting a response. I continue.

"These flowers are special. They only bloom in cold areas. These will grow in places where nothing else will," I whisper, hoping that you can hear me, "So, you see, winter isn't so bad after all."


"But I still believe in summer days, you know. Just for you."

I falter now. I can't contain my hurt anymore. I feel the warm flood of tears that are so familiar by now. A small whimper slips through my lips, and I slowly fall onto your grave. As I wrap my hands around your tombstone, I yearn to be closer to you. I begin to hum slightly, the way that I used to when we would lay together. I let my eyes close and pretend that you are alive and well, that all this has been a bad dream, and that you are holding me. You whisper in my ear and I hum for you and everything is as it should be.

But it can't stay. The memory melts away, and I'm back in reality. There is no warmth or whispering, and I've stopped humming. It is only a bleak December day, and this is only a graveyard, and you are only a tombstone. I wipe away my tears, pull myself up off of the ground, and brush off any remainging snow from my clothes. I lay the camellia up against your tombstone, a reminder that not everything dies.

"Happy Anniversary", I choke out. I spare you one more look, then turn and walk back to my car.

But I still believe in summer days. Just for you.