We parked the car in the snow and walked gingerly down the icy ramp. The wind was bitter, and Cherry Creek lived inside a snow globe of swirling flakes glittering like chips of diamond as the gusts whipped them, scarving from rooftops and frozen iron railings. Laura slipped and I caught her hand. I slipped and she caught mine. This is what we've done for all of our years together — caught each other as we were about to fall. In the end, we toddled like children, holding tight to each other and ducking our heads... More >>>