Most great romances take place during cold weather seasons. At least the ones I enjoy most. It’s a theory I have: Christmas lights and snow falling make the magic of a holiday romance a little more magical. I can almost picture them, the lucky ones, the ones who get to experience that picturesque, whirlwind romance. The kind Taylor Swift would write a song about. They would walk down the streets of some old small town all lit up for the holidays. It would be chilly out, of course, and the smell of pine would infiltrate the atmosphere. So our story goes, an old town, cold weather, Christmas lights, and the premise that love can escape you, but the lucky ones find their way back to it, back home.
The Beginning
November came and went like a sad autumn song. Willow always admired how the leaves could fall so quickly to usher in the winter season, but a part of her always longed for those hot summer days. Summer was a time of year that she didn’t have to worry about finding an excuse not to go home to confront everything she left behind when she moved out to LA. Summer kept her in this constant state of motion, going from party to party, attending all the music festivals she could, and living at the office. Summer was safe.
She loved her job as a sales representative for an on-the-rise clothing brand, as it had always been her dream to work in fashion. What she most loved about the job was that it kept her in LA and far from her hometown, a place she had grown to detest in the years following her adolescence.
Growing up she had always felt trapped by her hometown, always afraid that the small-town mentality would hold her back from her dreams, so she left at the first opportunity. Now traveling back to spend Christmas with her family, something she hadn’t done since she left six years ago, Willow was anxious. She was determined to remain calm and endure the weekend with as much patience as she could muster. But stepping off the plane she could feel her firm grip on her emotions slipping away.
Driving down familiar streets and back roads in her Mercedes rental while Christmas songs played on the radio, a wave of nostalgia overcame her and she was forced to relive heart-wrenching memories. She drove past her old high school neighboring the Methodist church her aunts, uncles, and cousins used to attend every Sunday and she remembered how she and August would always skip class to hang out in his 1989 medium blue mustang in the church parking lot. A smile crept onto her face. She felt silly reminiscing on those days because she had always resented so much about her old life, yet to this day she cherished every memory with August.
So much of her life revolved around him back then that it was hard for her not to see him in everything she drove past now. His long brown-haired curls and light brown eyes, the way he always smelled like mint and rainy weather, the way he could always make her laugh with stupid jokes. He was her everything, her first real love. Sure she had been young and naive when they were together, but nothing could change the fact that he would always be the first boy she had ever given her heart to.
Finally driving onto the street of her parent’s small one-story home she found herself excited to spend time with her family. A surprisingly welcome change from spending the holidays alone. Pulling up to her childhood home, panic rose in her when she saw the familiar blue mustang sitting in the driveway. Sitting alone in the car, paralyzed out of the shock, she tried to formulate a strategy to avoid him.
Before she knew it, her parents were coming out to greet her. She embraced her parents, each with a quick hug, then stood before them in painful silence, struggling to come up with something to say. She searched for any excuse that would be good enough to make up for all the time she had remained distant. Right as she was about to say something, she spotted him out of the corner of her eye.
There, standing and smiling at her in his favorite Christmas sweater, was August. No longer a scrawny teenager, he seemed everything she never pictured him being. Now he was taller, built, with stubble along the lower half of his face. “You remember August sweety. He’s been helping us out with some renovations around the house,” her mother said. All four of them stood in an awkward circle in the driveway under the snowfall. Like a gust of wind, it all came back to her. All the friendship, loyalty, love, and sometimes hate, but mostly love. All the dreams for a future she had pictured him in and all the regret she felt for leaving him behind. After all these years, he could simply smile and make her feel all these things even after all the pain she had caused him, and all she could say to him was, “Hey.”