The snow crunched under my feet. Only a few steps to go and I’ll be meeting him. This cabin is our meeting place, our little sanctuary. Inside is our world, as it used to be years ago. Ours alone. I hope he’s started the fire already, but it really didn’t matter. There would be warmth there to greet me, in all forms. A sweet drink, a fluffy coverlet and him. All of him next to me, all the warmth I’ll ever need to feel complete and whole again. These meetings are brief but satisfying, at least temporarily. I have to be content with this, because my real life doesn’t allow this dream to be anything but a dream, a fantasy. My real life tries to forget at this moment what reality is. Reality is he is not mine anymore, but I can keep the dream when I’m here. For a short time we are together again. I’m almost to the door. What will he be wearing this time? The suit he wore at our wedding, or the Army uniform when I first saw him? It really doesn’t matter. What matters is that for a very few hours we can see each other again. This is my fate for the past ten years, once a year, on the anniversary of his death.