I remember emerging from the comforting embrace of a warm bed and a warm, comfortable, loving embrace to pile on clothes, do my best to rouse myself and get into a cold car. Often I'd have to brush snow or scrape frost off the car before I could go anywhere; attempts to drive with a frost-encrusted windshield were usually in vain.

Mostly I wanted to return to that warm bed that I'd left behind, with you in it. It was there I was comfortable, holding you close and breathing your catnip scent as I slept beside you, sometimes entwined with you. You'd pile the covers on me and later blame me for stealing them, regardless of how many times I'd throw them off of me; I often found you warm enough without the need for extra coverings, but some nights, I wanted everything I could get.

We had our little cocoon, our time spent isolated from the rest of the world, talking and laughing and just being together. My memories of you are positive ones, all of them.