The Kissing Bridge

It was approaching 4pm when I was to meet him at the bridge. Not another soul around, the air crisp around me. I pulled my jacket around my neck to keep me warm. I saw him standing there, a large bunch of flowers in his hand and my smile would widen. I stepped up the rocks and would walk along the wood of the bridge, my footsteps could be heard. He held those flowers to me and I took them graciously. He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. It had been a long tour for him, but now I had him home for Thanksgiving. I threw my arms around his neck and reached in for a long kiss. My husband, the soldier, my hero was home.