I wish you were here. I wish you were here with me to feel the crisp, cold air and hear the silence when I step out of my home at 6:30 in the morning. It's getting down into the teens at night and my breath puffs, then hangs in the air. I wish that you could stand beside me to look up into the glittering galaxies shining down. If you were here, you could join me in the awe of seeing the Milky Way stretching over our heads like a rainbow of white painted across the night sky. We would stand in the middle of the street, forgetting where we were going because the silence, cold, and glittering sky took our breath away. We would turn and see the stars in one corner of the sky fading with the approaching dawn.
I wish you were here as the first rays of light break over the eastern horizon and bright beams hit Electric Peak. The peaks are all dusted, or perhaps frosted, with snow. The golden beams turn the distant snow into prisms of light reflecting a rainbow of colors into the morning. We would push our hands deeper into our pockets and wonder when winter will reach the valleys.
If you were here, we'd walk down the streets and laugh about the deer walking there too, or the herd of elk resting on the football field. We'd joke about the Two Bit Saloon being the only place in town you can get breakfast at 8 am. Someone driving past would stop his car in the middle of the street to say hello.
I wish you were here to walk with me in the afternoon when the air is still crisp, but the sun is warm. We'd walk out the Old Road and soon wish that we hadn't worn such warm jackets. After a few minutes, we wouldn't be able to resist the call of the hills. Peeling off the road, we'd follow winding game trails with no destination in mind and complain about the burrs stuck in our socks. The grasses are gold now and I know you'd marvel at the contrast between the firs on the slopes of the mountains, the golden glow of the meadows, and the deep blue of the sky. Around the bend we'd see a stand of cottonwood or aspen trees that look like a burning torch against the sky. We'd both stop in our tracks, amazed that any tree could be so brilliant.
If you were here, we'd sit in silence and watch the sun set down the valley. We'd watch the last rays of light reflecting off the river. As the evening deepened, we'd walk home past the school football field. The elk have moved off and have been replaced by a small group of dedicated athletes and parents at a game, braving the quickly falling temperatures and daylight.
I wish you were here. We'd get home and turn up the heat; it's worth it when there are two of you. The kettle would whistle and we'd warm our fingers around mugs of steaming cocoa or tea. We'd settle in and read, or perhaps talk about memories of the past or dreams for the future. We'd remember something we needed at the grocery store, only to realize it has changed to "winter hours" and closed at seven. We didn't really want to go out into the cold night anyway. After awhile the conversation would slow, or I'd finish my chapter, and we'd both yawn.
I know you can't be here. You have work, children and family to care for, or it's too far and too expensive to travel. But still, I wish you were here. I wish I could share with you the wonderful, simple things that highlight my life.