How did the frost get so thick on the window pane? As if it accumulated over the years without ever thawing.
I gaze out through the crystals. Out over the pasture, far across the fields and back to a time when the frost hadn’t settled yet.
The warmth of the days and the sunny smiles of youth. Freely skipping and dancing: young and without a care.
He held my hand and lightly brushed it against his lips. The warmth filled my soul and tingled from the base of my spine outward to all my body. We laughed and talked of the important things in life and pondered God’s plan for us.
As the sun began to set and turn the summery greens into the crisp, deep palate of fall; his hand slowly slipped from mine and his smile became a soft memory.
With the passing of the leaves, and of time, frolicking in the pasture dwindled away. A hollowness left me wanting.
Now, I close my eyes and try hard to remember.
Life appears so far away, so long ago. Opening them only to see the wintery flakes begin to settle where I once danced.
Across the field a trickle of smoke lifted from a chimney as a hawk floated and glided in and out of the smoky swirls.
The frost on the pane is getting thicker now. I pull up a chair and sit, my feeble bones sinking deeper into the velvety cushion.
As I begin to pass from this world into the next, I smile and open my hand as I close my eyes.
I once again feel him take hold of mine and gently brush his lips against my hand. Our spirits unite.
The frost melts away, and I know I will suffer the lonely cold no more.
Barbara Denny is a freelance writer in Clover.