As it Gets Colder

Most of the months we were together were cold. Sometimes freezing. And we drove many places to break up the monotony without numbing our toes on a walk. I liked sitting in the cab with the defroster blowing hot air into the car and onto the windshield as you, in a muted brown, chunky coat, brushed and scraped the snow off and waved at me to make me smile. You looked so responsible and manly, like when you wore a suit and told me about backhanding that kid in middle school—fifties manly—the kind of man who works hard and demands respect from others. You’d get back in the car, making “brr” noises, the kind where you blow out air and shake your cheeks to get some feeling back; it involves a lot of “huffing”, then you’d rub your hands together for a minute or two or give them to me to rub since I was already warming up.