As I escaped my hostile domain the blizzard outside blissfully engulfed me
Remembering my father's harsh words stung me in a place I forgot I had: my heart.
Stoically, daddy said, "It's been seven years."
Despite the -20 degree wind-chill, I felt like I was on fire.
In the white blindness I spotted a familiar male glove buried in the snow.
It was black and blue.
Holding it ever-so-gently I noticed a note hidden inside the glove as if waiting to be discovered.
In memorable handwriting it read,
"Doubt that the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love."
The fire spread through my bones.
This was the verse my husband chose to read to me at our wedding seven years ago.