SayGoodnightGracie.Org

The wind cradles my best friend’s red Honda Civic as we drift down a narrow lane tracing the eastern edge of the vast Hudson, like graphite on paper. Diana—the name we’ve given the hunk of metal hauling us—eases to a stop as my best friend lifts her foot from the gas. Now parked, facing the icy channel, Diana’s windows crack open, allowing a brisk breeze to hum throughout the cabin. The river turns iridescent as sun beams scatter over the jagged sheets of ice that drift downstream. In the distance, inky mountains cut against the blue sky, and every lone tree stands out in relief. Snow and ice stretch for miles, and a calm stillness settles into my chest.

A sense of longing creeps in-–for warm winds, strong currents, and purple skies. I think of dipping my toes into the still water, splashing my friends, and running my fingers over algae-covered rocks in the Springtime. We pranced down the dock at the river’s edge as strangers; three years later, we sit on the same worn boards, talking about our futures. The river keeps moving, even under ice, preparing for next Spring like always. And above it, on these same worn boards, we do too.