So last night we had these perfect moments that I don’t know if I can describe, but it sums up why I am so crazy about Scott. It was snowing (AGAIN!) but not as heavily as before, and the snow was starting to accumulate. Scott and I ran out to pick up a couple of things, and on the way back, I went completely control freak, and told him I was walking home in the cold and snow if he wouldn’t let me drive.
He tried to pretend that that would be fine with him, and started to drive off, and I started to walk. It was really a beautiful night for a walk, and I was glad to be walking anyway. But I saw him drive off and hide in the liquor store parking lot, and watch me to make sure I was okay, like I would do if Charlie was walking to school alone. As I got to the liquor store, he came out of the parking lot, thinking he’d fooled me, and asked me if I wanted a ride, but I still wasn’t getting in if I couldn’t drive, and I was really enjoying the walk.
I was walking home, and getting overly lost in my thoughts, as is my bent. Again, it was a beautiful night, with snow falling in flakes that you can still see after they land in a pile, and there was a slight chill in the air that reminded me of walking alone at night as a kid in Vermont, and I was sort of walking and wandering and letting my thoughts take me where they would.
When I was about a block from home, I saw a man walking on the cross street, with his hood pulled up over his head. He started stomping toward me in my reverie, looking very menacing, but it was only Scott, playing with me, checking on me. As we crossed the street he held onto me and guided me across and pointed out the traffic.
It was really quite nice. It is nice to be with someone who can’t help wanting to protect me, even though both of us know I do not need protection. (No delicate flower, me). But still it’s nice that he would think of trying.
I think the most perfect part was when we reached the other side of the street, and he took his arm from around my shoulder and held my hand, and led me directly to a snowbank, which I sank in to my knee, and snow came in my boot, and then it really was like when I was a kid in Vermont, because what I remember most was that I always had snow piling in over the top of my boots, even when I was in high school and too cool for snow boots and wearing only knee high shoey kinds of boots. I still couldn’t be stopped from tromping through the snow.