Hello, Chris.

You woke me with a start this morning. I had just walked into you parent's house with Alexandra. Zand. Up the front stairs and into the kitchen, which was quiet and empty, scrubbed clean except for a bag of cookies on the otherwise bare, marbled island counter. Miniature professionally crimped hobnobs, bag tipped over so that a few of them spilled out onto the clean beige and white surface of the counter top. As I reached into the bag to take one, Zand slid open the sliding glass door that leads out to the balcony and down to the back yard. I looked up and there you were, coming through into the kitchen, right hand cocked back, holding a duffel over one shoulder as if you'd been away on a trip somewhere. 

Oh, that smile! Like you were playing another trick on me. Everyone else in on it, too. The cookie, now mid way to my mouth, dropped from my hand and onto the kitchen floor. I inhaled sharply. "What the #$@!," I whispered. 

I turned quickly to leave, heading into the hallway but then slid down against the wall, dropping to my knees. The coolness of the wall was concrete. Tangible. Leaning to drop the duffel first, you came after me. "Heather, stop! Wait. And then you said with a chuckle, "It's OKAY." I held my head in my hands, shaking it. "No. No. Hm mmm." You crouched beside me and turned me around to face you and I saw your smiling face. Even that dimple! You were glowing.

There's snow on the ground outside, Chris. I was happy to see your face so clearly this time and happy that you were smiling at me. Miss and love you. 💋