The Seventh Swan

The snow falls again for the seventh time without her. Snowflakes dance to the tinkling of Christmas bells and the melodies of carolers that come and go as they please. On a day like this, she would have danced just as the snow did, melting into his embrace before their open fireplace.

On a day like this, she would have forced him into another godforsaken ugly Christmas sweater to match her own godforsaken ugly Christmas sweater. She’d say sorry in between fits of laughter. She had always acted as if sharing two mugs of hot cocoa and watching movies on their couch until the devil’s hour was a good enough apology (It was).

On a day like this, she would have huddled a little closer to him on a morning stroll, blaming the sudden intimacy on the cold winter air. Of course, he knew better. He’d laugh under his breath, placing her hand in his coat pocket, intertwining her fingers with his own.

Yet, the firewood before his eyes now burns and has burned for him and only him. Snow has fallen and melted away. Spring had only come to mock him.

Even though hundreds of thousands of days had passed, his eyes still searched for her. Though he knew she had gone just as winter does for spring, his heart betrays him. However, today, he catches sight of a few swans from the window of their house, swimming in a pond nearby. The seventh and last swan caught his eye in particular, an odd one out, only a half of a heart. It glided alone across the waters gracefully, but its feet paddled away endlessly just to stay afloat.

In spite of such a pitiful sight in the bitter cold of winter, his heart was warm with the thought of her. On the seventh day of Christmas many years ago, she had given him seven swans for God knows what reason. Her hair was a mess and all seven swans were busy angrily squawking over being moved around too much, yet she still flashed him a self-satisfied toothy grin. To a stranger, she would have looked insane. To him, she definitely still looked insane but endearingly so. He laughs to himself. What a spectacular and bizarre sight she was.

The snow falls again for the seventh time without her, yet he finds her in that snow in the middle of winter, in mugs of hot chocolate, and on Christmas days. He treasures these bittersweet reminders of his lover that has come to pass, but their love that will never pass.