You laughed, grabbed his hands and pulled him into the snow with you.
You're such a little shit!
He hates the snow.
You hold him down, rolling over ontop of him and sitting on his chest.
You tell him he's going to learn to love it, just like he loves you.
You lean back and look up at the sky, as fresh snowflakes fall onto your face.
You breathe in the cool air and smile, closing your eyes as the chills of the snow melt on your heated cheeks.
Everything is perfect, from what you can tell.
You stand up, notify him you're going inside to make some hot cocoa. He nods, and you step inside.
Kicking off your boots, you drop your jackets to the floor and shuffle into the kitchen, snow falling from your pants behind you.
You look outside at the white world as you put the kettle on the stove.
You look down and wipe a single tear from your cheek. Wondering when that got there, you shrug it off and prepare the cups.
Dimming the lights as the sun sets, you light up your fireplace and curl up on the couch with your finished cocoa, complete with mini marshmallows. And, you do what you do every night.
You wait.
For your hero to come home.
Just as you have for years.
You wait.
And wait.
For your hero.