The Pom-Pom Hat

I stepped through the door, the wind howling around me, unable to see. The inside of the cabin wasn’t much warmer than the storm outside, but the difference was enough to fog my glasses in an instant. I blindly set aside the axe and closed the door with my hip, slamming against it a few times until I could get it to properly latch. I sighed, taking off my glasses and setting them on the small table next to the door, stomping the thick, heavy snow off my boots. I could barely see you, just a hint of the cute pink pom-pom on your toque, poking up over the back of the couch where you huddled under your blanket against the cold.

“This is crazy!” you mumbled through your scarf as I stepped around the couch, depositing my armload of split wood next to the big stone fireplace. “Canadians are crazy! How do you all live like this!”

“Well… we don’t, to be fair,” I replied, taking off my gloves and rubbing my hands together to get some feeling back into my fingers. “We live in big, insulated houses, with central heating. We just do things like this for fun.”

“For fun!” you exclaimed, shuddering and shaking your head. “That’s even worse!”

I chuckled, making a quick crumple of the newspaper we’d brought, and setting a pyramid of wood splinters. The paper caught instantly, the flame licking at the wood. It wouldn’t be long, now.

“You do realize, that’s exactly how I feel about summers in Turkey, don’t you?” I teased. “You can always put on more clothing, when you’re cold… there’s a limit to how much you’re able to take off!”

“That’s what the ocean, and air conditioning are for!” you quipped back, and I could only smile. The truth was, this weather was a little extreme, even for me. But we had thick cabin walls, and the start of a fire, now. We’d be okay.

I came closer to the couch, kneeling before you, reaching up to gently lower your scarf. Your lips were blue, your teeth chattering. I leaned in slowly, kissing you softly. Your lips were like ice!

“God, you really are frozen!” I shook my head in sympathy, softly stroking my hand on the side of your toque. It wasn’t to the point of being dangerous… I’d seen frostbite before, plenty of times, and you didn’t have it, thankfully. But I knew you had to be hating life right then, your first time ever being this cold.

“You should feel my nipples right now!” you chattered. “They’re hard enough to cut glass!”

“Was that an offer?” I asked, grabbing you.