The snow started at just past four in the afternoon. Carney was a practical person, but it felt special to her. The first snowfall of the season. The first snowfall of her marriage.
After she finished preparing supper, Carney made cocoa and sat by the window to watch for Sam. It was the kind of snowfall she loved. Big flakes floated lazily to the ground, slowly covering everything in white. She imagined Bobby in Deep Valley running outside without his coat and opening his mouth to the snow.
Probably Sam would do the same on his way home. Sometimes, her husband was like a big child. He left his shoes all over the house and often didn't shave on the weekends.
And sometimes he would send her flowers in the middle of the day or plan a spontaneous trip home to see their families.
Their marriage wasn't at all the sedate affair Carney once imagined for herself, but she wouldn't want it any other way. She and Sam had promised that they'd always let each other be themselves and she was determined to keep that promise.
She spotted Sam down the street and, sure enough, he had his head tilted back to the snow. When he spotted her in the window, he leaned down to make a snowball and held it threateningly to her. She laughed and gestured at him to come in.
Tonight, maybe Sam would make a fire and she would play the piano and they'd watch the snow together. And tomorrow he'd wake her up early and convince her to make a snowman with him before he left for work.
And they'd look forward to the many snow-filled days ahead of them.