Amanda Hill


It’s midnight and my breath leaves little puffs of white when I get out of the theater.

After the short drive through town I arrive and reluctantly get out of the toasty car.

The grass shimmers with a coat of frosty dew. I hurry, shivering as I go.

I unlock the door and enter our cozy sanctuary.

I hear him call, “Is that you?” I giggle and affirm the ridiculous question we always ask each other when we are waiting up and the other finally comes home.

It’s Sunday night and he has to work in the morning, I know he is tired but he waited for me.

I hurry to get into bed because I am still shivering.

I slowly and carefully place my toes on his calves and he doesn’t even complain.

My icy fingers find their warmth on his back.

I realize, again, for the hundredth time as I am drifting off to sleep that he really loves me.

And it feels good.