|Photo credit: Liz Young|
Her boots crunched on the frosted leaves. Her nose was red, her fingers numb, she couldn’t feel her toes. It was so cold that the thought of sitting on the bench with fingers of ice creeping up her nether regions was more than she could bear.
A rustle in the undergrowth took her attention. Her husband stood behind her. He waited patiently. He knew she needed this time alone. She was grateful he was there. His presence was uplifting. She heard his camera click.
Another snapshot for posterity, for the generations yet to come and remember.
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