I miss the sun on my skin and the wind on my face. Oh, and thunderstorms.' He stood behind her, arms looped loosely around her front as his fingers traced the neckband, and he murmured against her ear.
Love this idea! On our next New Year's party, we will write our worries down, roll them up and make windchimes to release them to the wind - Then we'll put them in the fireplace at midnight. Start the New Year with a clean slate.