To, My Dearest, Today is christmas. One of many 25ths of my 25th year. My first 25th of the 25th year. It reminds me of you. I know you aren't very fond of it. You like the sound of raindrops hitting the soil leaving a petrichor effect. Yet, this cold chilly winter festival of gaiety and piety wears your reminiscence. Both aren't mine to claim. Yet both have stayed with me - Christmas and You. I know not what is this, that I feel. To find you even in places you don't exist, in things you dislike. It's just like the seasons - changes colour yet the same every year. Like the decorations on a christmas tree - a new element added each year. Yet the same lush green with a white furry coat. The same you with a different element.