We had spent the day in the cold northern air. Our fingers had frozen and our cheeks were red, yet as we sat by the fire, late at night when the sun went down, we chose to eat ice cream. It was salted caramel flavour, better than I expected it to be. In one bowl you served it, chunks and chips that you managed to mine from the solid mass in the tub. The bowl sat between us on the floor, our legs crossed as we faced each other. The carpet was warm from the fire and it soon helped the ice cream soften. Two spoons, one each, clinked in the bowl as they collided, we shared the nuggets of caramel and scraped the melted cream from the bottom of the bowl. A year ago I would never have dreamt of touching ice cream out of fear but eating it with you, I felt safe.
The clock read almost midnight but I wasn’t tired in the slightest. How could I go to sleep and miss the peace we found ourself in with our bowl of ice cream and aimless talk? We had slipped into a different world, a magical one of the night where the world stood still and all that mattered was the sound of your voice and the salty sweetness on my tongue. I hope I get to spend every cold night like that with you.
-January 26th, 2025
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