I know somewhere, somehow, Spring is on its way. With that will bring more traffic, more daytrippers, more weekend warriors. They'll come in drips and drabs and then in swarms and droves once the summer settles in. Their laughter will echo within these walls, the sound of their sandals dragging glittered granular across this weathered floor. Bikes will lazily and patiently wait outside along the rails. Pint-sized smuggled furry contraband on four legs will peer out of big beach bags, thrown over sun kissed shoulders belonging to those leafing through mementos and memorabilia to take back home to their real lives. These scenes can be decorated in any period of time but its routine will always be the same within these walls. So many days and nights, I'd spend time here people watching but will always drift to my favorite times when its just me and the hourglass standing still. I've been here and in this moment in so many different capacities of my own life that I can only imagine what kind of stories are stored. Alone and here with nothing but fading snowflakes and the smell of my daughter's bedtime lotion still lingering on my hands, I sit with my own past, not eagerly but contently waiting for my future... To when I can hear her laughter beaming off of the walls and feet scampering across this very floor, just like so many of summer's souls and their stories have so many times before. I think when you connect with something special, it's natural to be protective of it and want to keep it hidden away for yourself. But the true gift of love is sharing and welcoming others in to be taken back by the very thing that takes your breath away. We'll be here when you return, in your dizzy and dazzled drips, drabs, droves and swarms.... ...but until then, will hold onto your whispers and laughter, chatter and clatter for safe keeping.