Falling snow muffled the sounds of the city and painted our cheeks and noses red with cold.
We were rocking in the swing on the front porch.
The same swing where we shared many late nights together before this one.
The same swing our paper boy would frequently find us in, as the light of morning crept up on us, after we spent the entire night talking about our dreams for the future.
The same swing where he started handing us a free copy of that newspaper just because he got so used to seeing the two of us there. 
And so it also became the same swing where we would sit reading the morning news. 
It was the same swing where we had our first fight.
And the same swing where we later said our first I love you's
It was there, on that swing, sitting side by side, that he asked if we could carve out a life together. 
And in front of that same swing, after I said of course!, and yes!, he knelt and put the ring on my finger.






 
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