8 February snow

By the time you get to February, you’re sick of winter. You think of red hearts, valentines, and presidents of the United States, but you’re still in February, and it’s all cold and snow. The Earth is sleeping. Everyone seems to be sleeping; even when they’re walking and talking and walking around very carefully so as not to slip on the ice, they’re still sleeping. but you must be wide awake because it’s February snow. You just wish you would be over and you were moving out of an apartment that you loved so much. That situation to say goodbye to Radio forever, your radio show that you started. friends living at your apartment and hanging out was such a wonderful place, but then Someone died, and the landlord decided we were all guilty by association, so we had all the debt to be left out of our great parties. The crew was playing. The cat got out on the roof, and it was all fun, but it’s February now. and to the friends who shared laughter and late-night conversations within those walls. That place was a sanctuary, a tapestry woven with unforgettable moments until tragedy struck when a suicide shattered the peace behind the building. With one terrible incident, the landlord declared us all guilty by association, and just like that, the vibrant life we knew had to end. One of the most difficult parts of leaving town is packing your bags. Seeing all your belongings scattered across the floor reminds you that this chapter of your life is ending. You start by packing your clothes, trying to decide which pieces you will need in your new city and which can be left behind. As you fold each item carefully, you remember where you were and who you were with when you wore it. You take out an old army duffel bag with you through many moves and travels. It’s a sturdy bag, just like the memories attached to it. You start filling it with clothes but quickly realize that 11 pairs of boots are too many for one trip. You contemplate which ones to leave behind but ultimately decide to bring them all. They may come in handy someday. Next comes the hard part – storing the rest of your belongings. You have accumulated so much over the years, and now it feels overwhelming to decide what to keep and let go of. Some things hold sentimental value, while others are just material possessions that can easily be replaced. You carefully pack photographs into a shoebox, ensuring none get bent or damaged. These are precious memories from your time here and will always hold a special place in your heart. Other items like books and knick-knacks are harder to part with. They have been with you through thick and thin, and now saying goodbye feels like losing a piece of yourself. However, it is important to recognize that these items are merely material possessions and do not determine your identity or character. Tears start flowing down your cheeks as you pack up the last box. This chapter is really coming to an end. But then you remember that it’s not about the stuff or the place – it’s about the people who made this place feel like home. You take a deep breath and wipe away your tears. It’s time to move on to Summit John’s house, and you go west because of a story in this one girl you thought liked you. You could do something with her only to get out there and realize that she’s not interested and that you were a fool to think otherwise. February As February unfolds, the weariness of winter settles in. Images of red hearts, valentines, and presidential celebrations flit through your mind, yet you are surrounded by the relentless cold and falling snow. The Earth seems to be in a deep slumber as if everyone around you has succumbed to hibernation. Still, you strive to stay wide awake, waiting for the charm of spring, wishing for the winter to fade away. You stand on the brink of leaving behind an apartment filled with memories you cherish, bidding farewell to your beloved radio show. As you fly west, thoughts of the past swirl in your mind. You remember when you lived above Ed’s Bread, a vibrant bakery always bustling with activity. The smell of freshly baked bread would waft through your apartment, and you would sit on your balcony, sipping coffee and watching people go by. Ed’s Bread was more than just a bakery to you; it was where you started your radio show. Ed, the owner, had permitted you to use his rooftop as a makeshift recording studio. From there, you built your loyal fan base and brought joy to many listeners. But now, as you leave behind the city lights and approach John’s house in the countryside, you realize that everything has changed. The girl you’re interested in has lost interest, and Ed’s Bread has shut down due to financial issues. You feel like everything is slipping away; the warmth and comfort of Ed’s Bread and the possibility of a future with that girl are gone. But amidst all this darkness, there is still one source of hope for you – your radio show. Even though it may have ended abruptly at Ed’s Bread, it still lives on within you. And with each passing day, spring gets closer and closer, bringing with it the promise of new beginnings and fresh starts. You hold onto this hope as February draws to an end because deep down inside, there is still a spark within that refuses to be extinguished by the coldness of winter or the disappointments in life.  You reminisce about the incredible parties, the camaraderie forged among friends, and the mischievous cat that adventured to the roof, embodying the spirit of joy that once filled the air. But now, as February looms large, you find yourself packing an old army duffel bag—stuffed with eleven pairs of boots—and stashing the remains of your life into storage at a friend’s house. Your journey takes you westward, fueled by the hope of a budding connection with a girl you thought might feel the same.  February in the West feels different. You wake up to a world of color, where the sun shines brighter, and the sky glows with shades of blue you never knew existed. You are greeted by palm trees and cacti, and you can’t help but wonder if this is all just a dream. You had dreamt of what could be—of hiking through mountains and exploring National Parks together. You imagined long talks over coffee and shared laughs under starry desert skies. But those dreams were quickly shattered when you arrived and discovered that she held no interest in you. You try to brush it off, telling yourself it doesn’t matter. But deep down, it does. It stings to know that your feelings were one-sided all along. Still, you try to make the best of your new surroundings. Sitting in the Congress Hotel one night, you listen to a person playing the piano, a British girl. And you talk to her, She realizes that she is lost. A misplaced sense of geography put her in Tucson, but wanted to visit her friends in Kansas City. So together, you agreed to rent a car and drive her to Kansas City.  But as much as it pains you sometimes, you wouldn’t trade these experiences for anything else. They have shaped who you are—the restless traveler always searching for something more—and though it may not always be easy or comfortable, this life calls out to your soul. With a final look at the colorful sunsets, you embrace the journey ahead.  The realization stings, leaving you feeling foolish for your misplaced hopes and dreams. And so you are, driving through the frozen Kansas prairie, still caught in the cold grip of February snow, navigating the past toward a future left unseen.