In The Snow

by Nancy


Awakened with a kiss.
A misted thought of fairy tales. 

She felt the soft brush of his chin as the kiss sweetened … lingered. Then heard his loving whisper, not that different from his usual speaking voice. When he spoke with her.

“It's snowing, Catherine.”

How something so natural and fully expected - they'd watched the weather forecast before bed last night – could seem so miraculous as it came to pass, she didn't consider beyond accepting that it just did.

Now she was fully awake and throwing back the quilt to rush to the windows.  The long drapery had been slipped to one side.

She stood very still, entranced, Vincent behind, his body touching hers, warm, his arms a snug wrap that she leaned into.

“That my first snow fall in the daylight should be shared with you, Catherine ….”  His sigh was all peaceful pleasure coated in wonder.

“I wish I'd ordered it for you, Vincent,” she admitted, twisting in his embrace to smile up at him. He kissed her cheek.

Snowy feather-flowers bloomed on the needled branches of the old pine that shaded their back garden in summer, a white giant now.

“It's breathtaking.  As you promised. Beauty making no demands. Seeking neither notice nor admiration. Present, in a gentle silence, to any who will watch, admire, and be inspired.”

His delight was, for her, like the distant tolling of church bells on a Christmas morning, welcoming, and celebrating what has been freely given. She gave thanks for him, for his deep sense of what is real beneath appearances, though his joy in appearances came in no small measure. Nothing of him was less than appreciative, involved, grateful.

Nothing of him was less than infinitely lovable.

As though reading her thoughts, or feeling the surge of her emotions as he uncannily could, he kissed her neck, chin, and turned her back into the bedroom. 

“May I make love to you in the snow, Catherine?”


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