Endless Winter

That night. It was a mild July night. It might have been August. My memory is not so great any more. Nothing was different about that night, but yet everything was. Just the right mix of alcohol and tension. Enough of wrong, outweighed by too much now. An abandonment of tomorrow. That night, summer ended for me. I didn't know it, but it did. Followed by a winter that has not yet ended. And only now, in the dark of the night, years later, has fear found me. Fear that I will never feel the heat of summer again. That for the rest of my life I will live in this bleak winter. Worse yet, than if and when summer finally does crest, that I won't care any more, or won't notice.