A cold winter's...

There is magic in a cold winter's night. Especially late when it is blurring into morning, and the air is almost raw, but still dry. The stars shine more clearly, and memories of yesteryear flood. I mentioned once I how O Little Town of Bethlehem choked me up. But it isn't the last line that has me thinking of winter, but the first two: "O Little Town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie, and in thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by." For some reason, this conjures of visions and emotions of Christmases past when everything was magical, and faith wasn't a struggle. Even in January, waking too early, a touch of the magic is waiting. The scientist in me longs to know more about the stars (although the realist in me knows it's numbers and math and computer programs nowadays), while the dreamer in me longs to tug and remove the veil and see the hope and promise tingling the back of my neck. But I can't. So I just soak in the cold magic and hope this tingly magical feeling is God's promise of more. 

Lottie wonders

That girl two houses down was riding her bike again. Back and forth, up and down the sidewalk she went.
Lottie shook her head.
"Ridiculous, Marvin. Simply ridiculous."
Marvin didn't answer.
"I've already reported her no-good mother twice for letting her play outside like on her own. In the front! By the street! I hate to call again."
Lottie fingered the phone sitting in its cradle on the small telephone stand beside her chair. She wanted to help. She wanted to see the child back safely back into her own home where prying eyes and malicious intents couldn't reach her. It had been this way since the girl and her parents moved in last month. Everyday, after school she would run outside to play. Sometimes she waved and called to the other neighbors, and sometimes a friend from the next street would come visit.
"Don't they know how dangerous this world is, Marv?" Lottie shook her head again. "I'm done. If her mom doesn't care, why should I?"

Lottie's attention moved to the newspaper sitting on the front walk. She had repeatedly asked for it to placed on the porch, but yet again, the delivery man had forgotten. She wanted the paper.
Lottie slowly walked over to the front door. She slid her feet into her slippers, toes gripping the faux sheepskin lining. Wet with sweat, her hand slid over the door knob. She tightened her grip, and pulled. The door slowly opened inward, the sunlight glaring off the chrome rims of that damn teenager's car. She slid out the door, barely leaving any clearance space.

"Quiet, now. Quiet, Lottie." She stepped off the porch, eyes darting up and down the street. Just four steps. The newspaper beckoned. Three steps. A car door slammed. Lottie caught her breath. Two. A dog was barking a greeting next door. One. She reached down and grabbed for the paper, missing it completely the first time. The second time, her shaking fingers grazed the plastic sleeve, and she tightened them and pulled her paper close.

"Hi, Mrs. Garza!" The girl stood at the end of driveway, a big smile plastered on her freckled face, her auburn hair falling in a tangle over her shoulders.

Lottie gasped, and turned, racing back the distance to her door. With relief, she pushed open the door, slid her body in, and slammed it shut, quickly turning the deadbolt.

She leaned over slightly, gasping for air.

Finally, clutching her prize, she stood up, and smiled triumphantly at Marvin. "I got it!"

Marvin didn't answer. He turned his head back to the sun and continued to lick his furry orange paw. 

Where did it all go wrong?

Sometimes I think I should have demanded good grades from my kids. I always said C's or higher, but should I have said B's? A's? Sometimes I wish I had been more involved. Should I have been one of those PTA parents who can't separate their lives from their children's? I know I should have stayed at Caleb's karate practices. He might have stuck it out longer. But sitting with a bunch of moms talking about sales on Halloween costumes just made me want to commit suicide. Maybe I should have nixed the computers for each kid (that their dad seems to think makes up for not paying child support) to protect my kids from the disgusting and constant profanity on the internet-even sweet tumbr-and yes, I think putting the f word in your user name is beyond pathetic, but I wanted them to fit in.  But it is when my child drags him or herself out of bed, stumbles out the door without brushing their hair, wearing pajama pants with holes them, that I realize I have truly and utterly failed as a parent. And I suppose it's too late.

I guess I'll be harder on the little boys.

Waiting

"Chrisses coming!" Lilian ran around the room, shouting the words to all who would and wouldn't hear. "Chrisses coming!"
Rebecca smiled over at the blonde-curled child. "Are you excited about Christmas?"
"Yes! And Santa will bring me a new dolly! And candy! and a teddy bear!"
Lilian stopped running, threw hands out and twirled in the ecstasy that only three year old understands.
Rebecca calculated, doll-check, candy-check. Teddy bear? Oh well, maybe the playdough set would make up for the lack of a stuffed bear. If only it were Christmas tomorrow. It was so hard to wait, Rebecca thought.

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Since the real goal was fiction

Liz looked straight ahead as she walked the sidewalk towards Mt. Vernon Avenue. The night was bitter, and the wind was lonesome. She felt as if she had been walking in the cold for ages. Had it only been an hour? She was always walking on this dark, cold night. It was quiet. Few cars passed. It must have been a dream. The struggle, the screaming (was that her?), the knife, the blood. She was going to prison. She knew it. They'd catch her. She tried to think of a story. She tried to imagine hiding away, creating an alibi. Who could she trust? An owl swooped ahead of her leaving a giant oak for a smaller undefined tree. She watched its thick body rise back up in the air. She had never seen an owl in town before. What would prison be like. She was already steeling herself for the beatings, for being someone's bitch. The word made her cringe. They were going to eat her alive. But she'd take it. She'd get by. In the end, almost anything is bearable, she thought. Oh why, had she picked up the knife? Why had she opened her door? Her heart? She knew better, she knew. The lights of Mt. Vernon were shining down on her. She kept walking straight. She'd keep walking until some closure was found. There was nothing else to do. 

A cold night

I am so proud of myself. After doing 14 minutes of a 17 minutes ab workout, I invited Tierney out for a walk. Liam had been tucked in, and Gabe was about to sleep in his swing (Taryn and Caleb were home). We went on a 25 minute walk or so. It was cold, the wind blew our backsides all the way to our turnaround spot, and then it froze our cheeks pinker than pink on the way home. I was so happy walk inside and feel everything come back to life. Who knew my lips could be so numb from cold, and then slowly tingle awake again? Tomorrow is the first day of winter, and I am delighted.