True North

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. Ponderosa Pines pitched low and forward from the weight of the latest storm. The wheels of my car creaked and crunched through the unpaved path. I moved slowly, but he and I buzzed together side-by-side, giddy with anticipation of our impending adventure.

Tilly Pond lay ahead of our cabin as if it were the grand entrance of a palace. Snowflakes reflected the moon and twinkled down over the icy landscape to illuminate our arrival. He marveled with a soft satisfaction — nose almost pressed to glass like the child he once was. Of course, that was centuries ago, but one never truly loses one’s childlike sense of wonder. I successfully parked in front of the perfect little triangle and exited, leaving the keys in the ignition. Someone else could use it, I figured. He followed dutifully, as he always did. We walked up to the home empty-handed, anticipation heightened.

“How’s the fire?” I asked. We were left a complimentary bottle of wine and I sipped with care, sure to savor each time my lips touched glass.

“I might miss this the most,” he said. There was a surprised admittance in his voice; A person of True North missing fire. He sat back on his hands, bare toes outstretched, almost close enough to melt. He reached up a gentle hand and took my wine from me, and sipped with the same care.

“I can get you your own glass, you know.”

“I like yours better,” he replied with a smile.

I sat beside him on the fire, not as close as he dared to go, but close enough to feel the warmth of his body. It was bittersweet, like the wine, to leave this realm for good. We spent decades upon decades chasing the snow, chasing the benign snowfall of our own — but it soon became a fight for survival, and we’d rather chance being together at True North than waste away in this distant place.

“Do you think we’ll find each other? Up North, that is.” He polished off my glass, something done out of anxiety and not pleasure, I could tell.

“I don’t see why not.” I dismissed myself across the room and returned with the bottle.

“I can’t remember the last time I was there, only that I made it here, and then I met you.”

“Maybe we met up there and neither of us recall.” We took each other in, in hopes to never forget. He squinted hard.

“I think I’d have remembered your nose.” He laughed deep into the glass and took another sip. I drew from the bottle to hide my smile.

Eternity must have passed, as it took the fire along with it. The lights in the A-frame sunk low and moody, and we were left with the woody scents specific only to a home on the water. His eyelids drew down heavily, but he was still awake. I could not imagine sleeping, not when we were so close to our next destination.

“I think it’s time,” I said. I stood to lend a hand to him, my love, my adventure. He didn’t hesitate as he reached for me.

We left the A-frame with bare feet and walked lightly down to the frozen pond, leaving no footprints in our past. He confidently stepped ahead of me, in a newly awakened enthusiasm, and I followed close until we reached the exact middle. Snow still fell around us but seemed to pause in static before it touched the surface of the lake. A sense of ease washed over me; it certainly was time. He looked up at the two moons that shared the sky just for that day.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“See you up there,” I replied. We clasped our hands and the snow fell seemingly all at once, covering us until we were no longer visible. A gust of wind blew the powder away, revealing nothing.