In this short poem of mine, I am making my way to spring which is still out of sight. Winter is with me definitely, and so is a plum blossom. I may be alone, but I am not lonely. How can I be lonely if I keep a plum blossom close to my heart?
Did I mention that winter is with me? Actually, winter was with me, big time, back then when I dated a Chicago girl, now my fiancée who likes to be called a plum blossom in Chinese.
It was a January day of all days. I had the audacity to invite my new date to a winter walk on Chicago’s Lakefront of all places. That would impress her, I believed, if she knew how much I was eager to take on the notorious winter of her hometown -- for her. She’d better give a serious guy a serious chance.
Indeed, she was impressed, although a hint of doubt did make her brows knit for a few seconds: “Are you sure about that?” I nodded, smiling and telegraphing.
Still, I half-expected her counter-proposal. A visit to one of Chicago’s great museums, perhaps? The dice was cast against me when she warmed up to my idea, seemingly. I had a bit of cold feet, instantly and certainly.
In summer, it’s a breeze to cover the walking distance between Grant Park (our starting point) and the Navy Pier (our destination). That’s my only experience, by the way. Now, my stealthy iPhone check gave me -30° F without factoring in the wind chill. I wasn’t even sure I was truly bundled up.
No surrender to Chicago, no matter what.
Suddenly, my new date waved her hands. A Navy Pier trolley stopped for us.
Snow drifted by outside when she pointed me to this and that landmarks on our well-covered trolley trip. I had never been so quiet, listening to a caressing voice.