“It snowed on the hills around us last night.”

I think of the words from one of his letters each time it snows on those same hills again each year. 

I remember how much I longed to be with him then, to watch it snow and let him warm my hands, my heart.

Today he put his cold fingers to my cheek when he came in from working the fields.  He’s trying to get it all done before it snows—not just around us, but on us.

These days we watch the sun set pink on those snowy hills, set earlier and earlier each night. 

And we long for the moment when we get the children to bed and it’s quiet; when we can watch each other in the flicker of candlelight, warm and cozy by the fire.

{linking up with “Just Write”}