David Lynch - “Twin Peaks” (1990)

“Wait! Don’t rush so much! I know you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” I said, gently placing a hand on her arm to slow her down.

The air is sharp and biting, cutting through layers and seeping into our bones. The scent of pine and the distant hum of the wind added to the muffled yet harsh surroundings.

“You know what snow is,” I remarked, my breath visible in the freezing air. “But I’d forgotten how it feels in winter.”

“What? I don’t understand,” she asked, confused.

“I’m saying that it doesn’t snow in the winter anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. They say the Earth is getting warmer.”

“Winter without snow is not winter,” she shrugged, dismissing it.

I glanced down as we walked, surprised to remember that every snowflake is different. Each one, a tiny explosion of sound beneath my feet. With each step, I sank deeper into the snow, as though I could find a path back into the past.

“Can you feel the crunch of each breaking snowflake?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, her head was turned to something distant. I’d forgotten she didn’t like to talk.

“I still can’t believe we’re finally here,” I said, looking up at her.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes reflecting the muted surroundings. “I’ve been waiting for you for many many years. What took you so long?” she said with a raised voice.

“You know, now that I’m here,” I said quietly, “I suddenly believe that everything we saw really happened. It just can’t be any other way. Look around. It’s like someone’s turned down the sound and light on the world, wrapping everything in haze. Perfect setup for crawling troubles. What are you feeling right now?”

“I’m a bit scared,” she admitted, “it’s like the TV sucked me in, and I’m inside the show. It’s creepy.”

“It’s still fresh for you,” I smiled. “But I haven’t watched it for years.” 

“I promised myself I’d come here, and now it’s happening.”

“I would never let you down,” I added softly.

“That evening,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “The opening song. It was like nothing I’d heard before. I didn’t know music could be so beautiful and terrifying at the same time.”

“And when you listened to it on the way here? Was it the same as then?”

“It was different… just different,” she said slowly. “But still beautiful and somehow… scary. Especially as we drove into the dark snowy woods. I don’t like the woods,” she added.

“Me neither,” I agreed. “Did you understand the story back then?”

“Nope. But I didn’t care. It was the first thing on TV that made me forget that I was watching a show.”

“Yes, there was a lot of junk on TV back then, wasn’t there..” I said, laughing softly.

As we walked, rare cars sluggishly crawled along the road, quickly disappearing into the fog, as if something was swallowing them up. Thank you sun for not coming out today.

“All the people in the show were so beautiful and broken,” she added unexpectedly.

“That’s what stuck with me for years,” I agreed. “The dark beauty of everything.”

“What’s about the darkness? Why do we like it so much?”

“Hmm, I think… when we’re in the dark, all we can do is search. We have to use our imagination because we can’t trust what we see. We probe, feel, trying to find.. something... And we’re happy if we do.”

“So we’re messed up?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Why would you say that?” I replied slightly caught off guard. “Darkness is a part of life. It forces us to see differently, to appreciate things in a way we wouldn’t in the light.”

She stopped listening again, watching her breath in the cold air.

“Look at the steam from my mouth,” she said, exhaling deeply. “It’s like a part of my soul is escaping from my body.”

I smiled. “I see you’re cold. There’s a café nearby,” I said, pointing ahead. “Let’s warm up with some coffee. They say they’re known for their cherry pie.”

She looked at me with a soft smirk and delight in her eyes.

“Can’t wait,” she smiled.

The café was a sharp contrast to the world outside - warm and cheerful. We sank into one of the booths. It looked like a typical American diner, with red barstools lining the counter, beige booths huddled against the walls. The windows, dark and fogged, made the world outside seem even more distant, like it wasn’t real. A red wall behind us was lined with familiar faces, photographs that felt like memories from a dream.

“What are you getting?,” she asked playfully.

“Well, it’s a tough choice,” I replied, matching her smile.

We each took a bite and a sip.

“Ew, how disgusting!” she exclaimed, spitting the coffee back into the cup. 

“Yeah, the coffee is terrible, and the pie’s defrosted,” I said, laughing. “It’s impossible to eat or drink this.”

“Nobody’s paying attention to us,” she said, looking around the room. “It’s like we don’t exist.”

“They know why we are here,” I whispered. “They know why we ordered this terrible pie. They know it doesn’t matter. That’s why they serve it.”

We laughed, stepping back into the frosty air. Our breath mingled in the cold air as our teeth chattered. It was getting late, and the street outside was deserted. The only sound was the faint whisper of the wind weaving through the trees. For a moment, it felt like someone familiar would appear, slipping between the dark trunks, just out of reach. I glanced at her again. She was shivering, but smiling.

“I was happy to see you. Thank you for not forgetting and making this come true,” she said lively as she was fading away.

“Thank you for the memories that will live forever,” I whispered. “And for the new ones we made today.”

She smiled one last time, then disappeared into the fog. I stood alone in the cold, staring at the empty space where she’d been, feeling the weight of thirty years lift, just a little.

After all this time, I had finally made my childhood dream come true. How did it feel? I wasn’t sure yet. It didn’t matter. Not today. 

The snow crunched beneath as I walked away, my feet sinking deeper with every step.

Snoqualmie & North Bend, WA

February, 2022