I grew up in a place where the cold reigned—an icy realm where snow fell every single day. I didn’t remember if there was ever a day that I didn't wear a coat. Sometimes, the sun would peer through the clouds, giving me hope for a less chilly day—yet it was still never enough to melt the ice.

I got so used to the cold that I’d barely flinch. No matter how low the temperature gets, no matter how fierce the blizzard is, I’ll just put on another layer. That's it. I never really cared if it freezes me to death.

Then came a moment that didn't fit the pattern I was used to—the sun was there. The familiar warmth kissed my skin as if it yearned to be acknowledged. I can see and feel it, yet I still couldn't believe it. I didn't dare to cradle it in hope as I already knew it would eventually leave like it always does. I brushed my expectations off like the lint on my sleeve—yet it clung to the seams. Days and weeks went by as the sun asserted its presence with warmth that grew stronger every day. It still didn't feel real until I saw snow beginning to melt and form puddles—water slowly creeping through my shoes, soaking my feet.

Each day, I peeled off one layer after another. The sun’s touch felt so tender on my skin, and before I knew it, I was down to a single layer of garment. I wasn't used to such exposure—yet it’s the most alive I have ever been. My body felt light, I was able to do anything and everything, unbound. The feeling was strange, but it was the kind of discomfort that whispers of growth. I felt free, genuinely happy, like a thread that had been pulled free from a tangle.

But who was I to enjoy the privilege of being that secure forever? The bright blue sky suddenly shifted to a gloomier welkin. The cold breeze rushed to my skin as it started snowing again. The sudden temperature drop didn't just graze me—it invaded, like a trespasser seeping through my flesh and settling deep into my bones as if it was hunting down my core. The cold bit through me, harsh enough to blister my bare skin.

The snow was slowly swallowing me alive, it was so cold that my limbs felt weak. It became hard to pick up and wear more clothes—grasping for warmth felt like catching smoke and chasing shadows. I realized how I was right in the first place, the sun was temporary, and it will never choose to stay with me. No matter how snuggly it felt—like the mist of dawn—it was never meant to linger. Shivering, I desperately tried to look for what was left for me to put on.

At last, I now have new clothes that replace the ones I lost. I am now more guarded from the cold that I always thought was harmless. It was the only constant thing I have known, for so long it lingered, it wore the face of home. 

Sometimes, the warmth of the sun still crosses my mind; not because I miss it, but because it reminds me of how I once let my guard down. I don't want to pretend that I didn’t enjoy what it felt like. I am strong enough to acknowledge the vulnerability I let myself feel during those warm times, but if that feeling ever comes back—even if I drown in my own sweat, I swear—I’ll never take off another layer again.

- Arianna Montefalcon

(Illustration by Mary Nicole Halili/FEU Advocate)