Cora? Whose Cora?

I went to my parents tonight to watch Downton Abbey.

My wild Saturday night. 

I haven't been this sick in so long. 

This is day seven and while I'm "better" in the sense I'm no longer bedridden with a fever, I'm still so bloody sick. 

Congestion no cold pills can cure. 

And a headache that makes me hate humanity. 

I am so fucking grumpy.

I don't feel like myself at all.

It's maddening. 

But tonight, for a few hours at least, I got to lose myself with the characters I've come to adore over the years.

This is the last season, Dad reminded me. 

And that reminded me of how I first discovered the show. 

Kai.

This looks good, he had said, stumbling across it online. 

I was hesitant (as he loved reminding me later) but one episode and I was entranced. 

He'd find the seasons in their entirety before they aired in the states so I'd watch the entire season in a matter of days. 

And then be sad that it was over already.

Like him and I now.

Twice, twice, if you can imagine, I watched the bonus Christmas special before the first episode, which basically meant I had spoiled the entire season for myself. 

The Christmas episode was a season extra, tying up all that had happened during that season. 

Kai would laugh at me, as he brought me more tea, back when most of my nights were spent curled up on his couch, the same grey couch he left behind when he left that apartment.

I knew as I shut the door in that colorful hallway as I helped him gather the last of his stuff that things would never be the same again. 

And they never were. 

So tonight, as I drove home after only seeing two episodes of the season, I thought that maybe it wasn't so bad to have to wait to see what happens. 

Maybe there was something more fun about having a piece of it to treasure once a week.

Even if a part of me wished for more, to know what was gonna happen. 

Maybe not knowing was okay. 

Maybe change was okay. 

I drove passed the billboard for zoo lights. 

I missed them this Christmas. 

And I'd gone the past several years. 

I'd always be sad when it was over because I didn't want to go yet and we'd be frozen but he'd humor me, and we'd see the entire display a second time. 

Running. 

That may have been my favorite part, running together, past the crowd surrounding us, lights a blur, laughing, still partly frozen.

But together. 

But he wasn't there to run with me this Christmas. 

And he wasn't there to get the final season before it aired. 

And sometimes I forget he isn't there anymore. 

And then something will happen that reminds me how much I used to adore him. 

And how we really did have our way of loving each other.

Which nobody, including ourselves, ever really understood.