With The Birds

"Hey guys, want to go play with the birds?" inquires Allen.

"YES!!!!!" I scream, being the spazz of the group.

Without thinking, without looking up from my brightly colored shoes, I run down to the baseball field. 

As I get there, I realize, once again, I have been left behind. I watch my friends watch me, wave, and start walking away. A typical response, it's okay, I'm used to it.

I look around and again realize that I am alone, for the birds have flown away at the frightening sight of me galloping towards them. I wander over to the pitching mound. If it were spring, I would be standing on a mound, just like this, practicing. But it is quite the opposite. Today was the first snowfall we've had all of November ( a sad thing here, up north) and the ground is soggy and wet. 

I look out over the field. The snow is covering the mountains, the blanket of white powder covering the vastness before me. It's beautiful, and for some reason, it reminds me of you.

I sadden at the thought. Though it is happy, you are not here with me at this moment. I think of last year, and if you were here now, i would feel your arms around me squeezing tightly. You would have tried to sneak up on me, and I would have known you were there, but I would pretend not to notice. And then as soon as you came close enough, you wrap me up and give me a fantastic hug, and I would smile because nothing, nothing, was better than this.

And if I was cold, You would lend me your jacket, even if you were colder.

This is what I miss.

Today I just stood there, thinking about this.

I love you.