Warmth

            It’s an unseasonably early freeze; sleet pelts my windowpane. The suddenness makes the cold seem more acute than usual. It causes me to seek warmth in all its forms. 

            I turn toward my husband for warmth; he’s the warmest person I know. His sunny nature, loving attitude. His physicality, the nape of his neck as I stretch to kiss it, his strong arms, the chest in which his precious heart beats. He envelops me in the softening dark, I am warmed. 

            I pull up my blanket and lift my book. With only a whisper of motion my catkitty arrives, finding the bowl of my legs. Together, we while away the time, cuddling and loving on our love seat, and we are warmed. 

            I step into the shower, the steam rises around me. I pull out my warmest scents: citrus and honey. The lather surrounds me, I am warmed.

            

            Snuggled in my bed as I write this, my husband at the door: “You’ve got to come look at this.” He opens the front door: SNOW! Big, huge, angel flakes of snow falling down. I grab a blanket, turn off the living room lights, peek out the curtains as he fusses with trying to get a photo. 

            He settles down, comes to me on the couch, and holds me as we watch the beauty. Catkitties, not one, but two, join in to see what all the fuss is about. Serenity and loveliness reign in the quietude. We are in beauty. We are in companionship.

I am warmed.