I imagine spring will be easier, as it brings warmer weather and a time in DC that holds no memory of you in it. The cherry blossoms will fall, and I will revel in how these flowers only open for seven days, and yet they are nearly indescribable in the way they grace the air and pavements.
Summer will be the test. This is when I must rebuild. The humid nights will come, and I will remember our first date at the bar and our first kiss on that corner. My summer dresses will have the ghost of your fingerprints all over them, and I must force myself to wear them because I still existed before we found each other.
I will pass the lawn where we watched a movie on the big screen, and my feet will linger briefly as my eyes try to locate the exact spot where your arms wrapped around me. The weather will remind me of sheets thrown aside as we tangled our bodies together to learn the other’s rhythms and desires. Yet I’ll still welcome the heat because it reminds me of being abroad, and that was where I built a me that I loved and knew how to love.
I will find her again. I am sure of it.