December

The cranberry wine color and roses bring in the feel of winter... after a long summer it's a beautiful thing to feel the snow falling in a light dusting on your shoulders as you take life in. Lying down in the field of crimson I feel like December is not so very far away and soon I will be home and He will be there to greet me- standing in the doorway like before, His homecoming smile out shining the stars. We'll sit by the fire and talk about things that don't matter while I sip my hot cocoa and He plays solitaire on the coffee table. He'll walk me up stairs to my old room and tuck me in with a "Good night" and I'll hug Him and try my hardest not to let Him go, make Him lie down next to me till I'm asleep and far from the harm of whatever lurks under my bed... and in the morning I'll find Him downstairs on the couch, fast asleep. I'll walk outside to the snow covered swing set that's no longer there and sit on my favorite swing and watch the sun come up on my iced paradise.
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He sat down across from me and smiled, sipping His soda straw, moving His body ever so slightly as He adjusted to the comfort of the diner booth. It was like one of the Norman Rockwell paintings with the girl and the boy at the counter sipping the same root beer float, only better because it was us. He unfolds the menu and asks me what I want for breakfast and I say french fries. He smiles and orders me a bagel with cream cheese and gets pancakes for himself, I learned long ago to let Him to the ordering, He always does it perfectly.

Outside the diner window the snow has been plowed into mountains on the side of the road, I point this out to Him and He suggest we climb them after our meal. I like that plan and add that we should have a snowball fight, He likes that plan even more then I liked His.

We eat breakfast slowly, barely saying a word to each other as we watch fresh snowflakes fall. He sips on His coffee and lights up His cigarette as I polish off my hot chocolate. WHen the smell of the cigarette reaches my nose I look up at Him with a glare and He just smiles, puffing lazily, and I reach out and pluck it from his lips, crushing it out on the ash tray. He can do that on His own time, but not on mine, I've told him this before. I don't like the smell. He laughs and picks up his coat, last one to the door is a rotten egg.