Do you remember Tom?
Your eyes are the first to understand. They open wide, drawn to a presence.
His cheeks not pale. Bright red, like the way they were that winter day. Electric day.
The day the snow fell in April.
And you met.
He came with a shovel.
Cleared your sidewalk.
You had cookies and hot chocolate together.
The steam rose wet in the frigid air.
Before he was your husband, walking boot deep in fluffy snow.
Tom. Laughing at unexpected falling flakes. Catching them in his mouth.
Living life to the end.
The last word goes to Tom.
