Warmth emanates in my palm. With fingers entwined, I hold onto so much more than the physical form in my grasp. I hold onto everything.

There is a whole world before us. From our vantage point, we can see it all. The vastness of all that is to come, it is painted in shades of indigo. Once celebrated, time and exposure dulled the hue we've grown so accustomed to. No longer able to appreciate the richness without comparison, we collectively wait for its demise.

Standing there in the cold, anticipation of something long-promised builds. How can there be an inkling of worry? How can I doubt the inevitable? No, doubt is the wrong word, but the delusion of invincibility is human, nonetheless. Nothing lasts forever, and yet, I find myself unsure of what is to come next.

It's obvious, of course. The world turns, life goes on, the sun shines.

Yellows break the cool tones of the morning sky as the horizon splits with a warmth sorely missed. The rays reach our skin, kissing us sweetly, for we have been missed as well. Looking out to the place where the sky meets the Earth, I am humbled. Tears well as a solemn reverence swells within me. This moment is predictable, scheduled even, and still, it manages to become a thing of incomprehensible wonder.

My body reacts of its own accord, tightening my grip as the yellow continues to shift in tone. Otherwise, I am perfectly still. Pinks begin to swallow the night sky that held us captive for all those days, those weeks, however long. Time means nothing in this moment.

A puff of breath bursts forward and disperses in an instant. The evidence of my existence is a fleeting thing and it reminds me of how quick the expanse of the Polar Night will seem in a matter of months.

Time will begin again as the sun shines evermore, never letting me live down the moments I longed for it in the darkness. There were instances where I wanted to beg, even knowing that it would change nothing- is there not power in words? Would my desperation not be heard if I called out?

The darkness often felt like it would last forever, as if that word meant anything at all. But the darkness is temporary, as is the light. There is no constant.

My gloves resist against my steely grip, the fabric complaining as I attempt to hold tighter to what is mine.

The periphery of the sun finally crests the horizon, blinding me. It is as if I've never seen it before. I'm unable to look away, mesmerized by the raw energy. This is life; a fleeting breath, a lingering tear, the warmth shared when flesh connects and souls are joined. There is no greater proof than these simple yet undeniable things.

Simultaneously, I stare down death; for the sun, so praised as it is, cannot deny its nature. Never did the moon take a life.

Like a physical manifestation of my revelation, I am overcome with understanding as the sky continues to grow brighter.

I look to my left as a small squeeze to my hand liberates my gaze. A smile, bright with satisfaction, greets me. There is concern behind his eyes that feels like home, for I know it stems from love and I am finally able to relax.

Hand in mine, we embrace under the first sunrise of the rest of our lives.

WC 579