March was here, but in my head, I still wandered about the streets in winter. Some part of me was permanently frozen in Octobers and Decembers long gone. I often wondered why it was that way; it did not sit right with me, this inane calling towards colder days. There was something about walking on a chilly evening that pleasant days could not compete against. We all had our own affinities, and I always felt at home in the auburn leaves leftover from autumn, in the cold, drab air, in the craving for warmth. Perhaps, that was it; that was the answer. No matter how much warmth I received, I was hungry for more. This winter inside me was maybe a longing if nothing else.
And yet, when warmer days arrived, this craving would not go away. Some of us have felt so terribly cold at some point, nothing was warm enough. Maybe, that is all I wanted to tell myself until I found a warmth I could call my own. There was a warmth in briskly walking by yourself on a wintry evening. Maybe, this romantic attachment in me—of walking by myself, of nodding hello to strangers sitting around a fire, of the last cup of coffee from the café pulling its shutters down, the last song I hear emanating from within it—maybe all of it was a proxy for the warmth I knew I deserved. Perhaps, it was all my way of waiting.
But then, I often forgot about this obsession with warmer Octobers, if any could exist. I forgot the time, the month, the year; I even forgot who I was and what I was waiting for. Often, I found warmth in familiar faces, around a hearty dinner, in conversation, in the love I knew was all around if only I stopped walking away from it. It was in those tiny pockets of time that I realised the only truth there was: we only felt the warmth we allowed ourselves to feel. One might still shiver on the onset of spring, and one could still be content around a table in the middle of December.
As I had this epiphany, I realised it was almost the second day of March. Winter was slowly fading into the shadow of a colourful spring; I felt my obsession fade away, too. If there was a moment to seize, it was this one right in front of me. And if there was warmth, it was here, here and only here.