we like to gaze at the lights

We sit there, huddled together on the tiny cement balcony, over taken by blankets, attempting to keep warm. It's two o'clock in the morning and below forty degrees. We sit there watching the twinkling lights of the pier, and from across the sound. The lights dance before our eyes. The ferries and sailing boats have long been put away, and now, the water is dead silent. All we can hear is the sound of our own voices, and occasionally, the footsteps of a stranger heading home, below us.

We tell each other stories; in which each word, a cloud of steam comes from our mouths. One of us tells the story of her friend's parents, who lived on a boat for ten years. She tells us of how madly in love they were. They traveled around in their little boat and loved each other.

We sit there in silence for a while, then begin talking again. On and off. We glance up to look at the stars, who are faintly shining, but realize there is another balcony above us; so instead, we peer around the balcony and try to make out a shooting star. Finally, we give up craning our necks to see, and make do with the twinkling city lights, which are just as beautiful.

We could have sat out there on the hotel balcony for hours and hours, if only it hadn't been that cold. I don't think we'll ever forget that night where we sat and watched the flickering lights on the balcony, wrapped in blankets, talking of two people falling in love on a boat.

xoxo, lovelies!