'Snowflakes' by Lisa Lermer Weber

Snow. Winter's here. But you're not. You've been gone forever. I don't count the days. I can't let grief swallow me. You made me promise to continue living. So here I am, living in our cabin. Here I am, living alone with trees and ghosts. I don't count the days, instead I count falling snowflakes. I count them the way I used to count your freckles. Each one as different and beautiful as stars in the night sky. You used to point out the constellations and tell me their haunting stories. Sometimes I try to count stars, but there are too many and I quit. I don't count the days, instead I count the times I think I hear you. I count the times I reach over to your side of the bed and touch emptiness. I promised to continue living, but instead I'm counting all the ways I can't live without you.