In Radium Hot Springs, British Columbia, in the midst of the Rocky Mountains, with two good friends who didn't really know each other, on a somewhat spontaneous winter road-trip. The hot springs was open fairly late into the evening, and we got there around dusk. The sulphurous water was surrounded by snowy rock faces so we felt like we were in a grotto. There were other people there, but it was big enough that we had a corner to ourselves. The mineral-rich water was quite hot and extra buoyant, or so it seemed to me. I am notoriously not a swimmer, but since we were in the Rockies, in a hot springs, it seemed only right that I partake in the experience. The stars began to come out overhead. Our breath rose in clouds to join the steam off the water. Two of us decided to dunk our heads in, and when we came back up our hair instantly froze solid. My other friend told us how stupid we were, and she was right, because we both got terrible colds afterward. In the moment, it was such a confusing mix of temperatures that I felt almost drunk on sensation. My whole scalp tightened while my limbs relaxed. The eerie feeling of my hair turning brittle and white.
Both of these people have since faded from my everyday life and yet, when I think of us together in the hot springs, I feel a wave of tenderness and longing. For their friendship, for laughing while floating, and sweating while freezing. For the steam of our breath and the glitter of the stars.
-Anonymous
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