The Cabin

The tires crunch underneath us as we drive up the icy gravel path, my hand in yours where it belongs. The snow-capped pines part before us, revealing our destination at long last. The cabin looks rustic and beautiful, like a life-sized gingerbread cottage dusted heavily with powdered sugar. It's so quiet and peaceful all the way up here, away from the noise of the city... away from all the things that don't really matter. It's been a long drive, and I know you're tired, but I can already tell from the sparkle in your eye that it was worth the trip up.

The chill winter wind stings my face as I step out of the car, which is already red with a blush from the kiss you left upon my cheek as I unbuckled my seatbelt. Snowflakes start to flurry around us, sticking to my hair and your shoulders. I brush them off you gently, but more only come to take their place. You take my gloved hands in yours and kiss them tenderly, then pop the trunk so we can get our bags.

The inside of the cabin is the picture of quaint, rustic charm. Low, overstuffed furniture surrounds the flagstone fireplace in the front half of the main room, while the back half is occupied by a small galley kitchen. I start unpacking our food and storing it away while you build a fire. Before long, I can hear the crackle and snap of the logs, and feel the heat of the fire at my back. You smile at me triumphantly as you admire your handiwork, dusting the splinters off your gloves. I compliment you on your beautiful fire, which I move closer toward to enjoy more of the heat it's putting out. Your arms wrap around me on their own slowly as we watch the flames dance for a while in comfortable silence. I could stand there in your embrace forever, and for a while it seems as if I have.

A few short hours later, we're sitting in front of the fire with steaming mugs of coffee. You rub your stomach with a playful grin, singing praises about the meal I cooked for our dinner. It was only a simple stew, but you speak as if it was a ten-course splendor fit for a king. I blush and thank you for your kind words. My only goal is to make you happy, as you constantly make me happy each and every day. We sit there sipping our coffee with a blanket, talking for hours about anything, everything and nothing all at once. It doesn't matter what we talk about. All I really want to hear is the sound of your voice. All I want to feel is your laughter, rumbling softly in the depths of your chest under my ear. Your heart pounds with a strong, steady rhythm, matching mine perfectly beat for beat.

I notice after a while that the fire is dying. You tell me, "don't worry, Darling," as you lean over to press a kiss on my lips. From that single gesture, my soul is warmed instantly from the inside out. I murmur a soft, "I love you," and you answer my declaration with another kiss. The embers in the fireplace grow slowly dimmer with each passing minute. Neither one of us seems to care. You draw me into your arms, holding me to your powerful chest. Our lips touch again, and again, and our hearts beat as one. Outside the window, the snow falls heavier. The Winter wind gutters against the sides of the small cabin, jealous of the warmth within it. As the embers in the fireplace finally die out, I pull the blanket tighter around the both of us. At this point, however, neither of us really needs it anymore.