The winter will always remind me of you, as the cold touched my skin this first year without you, I remember June and July, waiting in anticipation for your arrival, having to say goodbye, sitting under the winter sun in those weeks that followed. It felt right that the whole world was cold with me. You were born and left one cold winter day. I found out before the sun was high in the sky. Winter as cold as your skin, on the day I last got to touch you. You were conceived in the summer, grew through those hot months and into autumn. We never had Spring together. I always find that to be the most ironic thing. This Spring, these beauties started blooming, they have never bloomed before and the tree they come bloom from was probably chopped down years ago. It is a dry stump and from it these amazing flowers came, a Spring gift from you..