5/5 Anna-Agata D. 1 year ago on Google • 2 reviews
One
lonely
night
in
December,
my
husband
and
I
found
ourselves
amidst
a
snow
blizzard
that
left
us
wondering
whether
we
would
even
make
it
home.
With
icicles
on
our
eyelashes
we
stumbled
into
the
first
establishment
we
could
find
-
and
it
happened
to
be
poco.
The
wonder
that
awaited
us
melted
not
only
our
frosted
faces,
but
also
our
hearts.
Cold
and
shaken,
we
were
greeted
by
a
loving
embrace.
Kembe,
the
master
of
the
house,
was
pulling
a
freshly
baked
apple
crumble
from
the
oven.
His
mighty
laugh
filled
the
room
with
the
fire
of
a
thousand
suns.
Without
hesitation
he
hastened
to
cover
us
both
in
weighted
blankets.
He
took
off
our
mittens
and
gently
warmed
our
hands
with
his
breath.
My
husband
was
weary
from
the
night’s
misfortunes
and
Kembe
was
quick
to
lift
his
fallen
spirit.
Taking
him
into
his
strong
arms,
he
rocked
him
into
a
peaceful
lull,
humming
a
soft,
caring
melody
of
Silent
Night
into
his
ear.
To
this
day
the
echoes
of
his
song
floods
my
being
with
a
calm
joy.
We
rested
that
night,
each
head
on
one
half
of
Kembe’s
gracious
lap,
caressed
by
the
sweet
embrace
that
only
this
kind
man
could
provide.
As
dawn
carefully
laid
its
rays
onto
the
velvetty
hills
of
fallen
snow,
we
bid
adieu
to
the
gentleman
that,
with
a
twinkle
in
his
eye
and
a
cinnamon
scone
for
the
road,
changed
our
lives
forever.
And
as
a
reminder
of
this
blessed
night,
in
the
moment
that
our
first
born
son
roared
his
opening
ode
into
this
world
we
knew,
that
shall
be
his
name
-
Kembe.
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