Entry 073

(Written in 01.2020)

(PJO Inspired) Scene of a girl experiencing loss (Annabeth's pov)

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The snow was heavy in New York during Christmas holidays, and it didn’t surprise me when Central Park was covered in a glittering blanket of whiteness. As I took a sip from my coffee, through the twirling steam I saw excited children running around, making snow angels and castles, all the while screams of “Mommy” and “Daddy” rang throughout the grounds. Some might consider raising a child as an annoying business, but I have always thought it would be satisfying and enjoyable, not that I had one of my own.

Not anymore.

Soon I walked away from the bustle of the underage, wherever I turned couples filled the place. No matter if they were teens or expecting, white-haired elderly or the newly-wedded, they still came out to share and celebrate this White Christmas. My fingers tightened around the paper cup in the hopes of warming up. I didn’t feel sad or alone about this, contrary to the popular belief on being single on a Christmas Day. I was...me.

When I opened the door to my house, once again everything was a brilliant white. We had wanted a house that would last, my husband and I, a house of marble and stone, of eternity. My eyes fell upon those sea green eyes and the laugh etched on his face, and despite everything, I smiled. For a moment, the ice in my heart melted, and memories of our honeymoon, days and nights spent as a freshly married couple returned, filling my heart with warmth. Instinctively, I took a step towards him. But the movement broke the magic. My body froze like it was thrown into the ocean in the pole, and my heart sunk as fast as an anchor. Just like that, I was staring once again into the framed photo, awakened from the dream.

Reality hit me in the face as I silently closed the door, not saying a word, not even cursing. There was no reason to. There was nothing to fight, no one to fight for. There were only the sea green eyes I have learned to love and the laugh I have committed to memory blooming on that handsome face in the frame on the shelf, heart-brokenly out of reach.