What Time Told Me

I lost my favorite pair of gloves last winter. They were made of this sort of fleece material. They were blue. I looked everywhere for them, but eventually I gave up and figured I must’ve left them on the bus at some point. I never bothered buying new ones.

I tell you this because the first thing I noticed when I met you was that you were wearing the same gloves. I’d never seen them on another person. In fact, I can’t remember where I had gotten mine. When I asked, you didn’t remember where you got yours either. I had just lost my gloves that weekend, actually, but I never even entertained the idea that they could’ve been stolen. I could already tell you weren’t a thief.

When we went skating on the lake that evening, you kept telling me that my hands were cold. You used it as an excuse to hold them, warm them in yours any chance you got. It made me miss my gloves a little less, holding your hand.

The other day, I happened upon my lost gloves at the bottom of the suitcase I had packed for my trip back home. I really thought they were gone for good, but it turns out that they had been with me all the time. I’m glad to have met you. Though we’ll be apart for some time, I’ll consider myself lucky, for I now have a way to keep my hands warm this Christmas. I will not cry for loneliness, for when we meet again, I can hope to warm your hands too.