The Friday Before
The Friday Before
Her Winter Solstice
December 21, 2018
The Longest Day
She awoke in darkness, let out the dog, fed the cat, fed the dog, showered and dressed, bid farewell to the little darlings and walked through the morning cold to the train, the sky struggling to find light.
The train was less crowded than usual and two people moved to another train car, apparently repulsed by the odor coming from a passenger in a wheelchair, a man who looked as if he’d ridden the train all night.
At work no one thought about work. It’s the Friday before Christmas and all the conversations – in person and over the phone - revolve around shopping, parties and other plans.
The computer screen had snowflakes chased by black squirrels, reindeer jumping over snowmen, icicles exploding into skyrockets which became icicles again, then snowflakes chased by black squirrels, red birds and blue memory.
The day went by. Cookies, work, coffee, talk. The guy at the desk next to hers won the vote for the ugliest sweater and got a 100-dollar gift card and everyone cheered. Her sweater was ugly but still looked good on her.
Two hugs at the end of the day, one from a guy who used Christmas as one of his many occasions to give hugs, one from a girl who had gotten another job and wouldn’t be coming back after the holiday.
The walk to the train was enveloped in darkness. Christmas music in her earbuds then a warning over the train’s speakers to be careful of pickpockets looking for phones –the train was much more crowded than in the morning - so she put the phone away and read a bit of a magazine article about one of those towns near the North Pole that never see daylight.
She walked past the graveyard, which had snow and wreaths hanging over some of the tombstones.
The cat and dog greeted her at the door and there was a note on the refrigerator from her dog walker that said Merry Christmas. She had baked her brownies and they sat on the table in a Christmas tin, which had a horse pulling people through the snow on the cover.
Bing Crosby on the radio followed by Frank Sinatra, Darlene Love, Karen Carpenter, a walk for the dog, more treats for the cat, re-heated spaghetti and a glass of wine.
The moon speaks over the thin, obdurate layer of snow stretching out her window back toward the train, the city lights, the frigid lake and a sky that goes up and down, back and forth, holding everything beneath it. --TK
Friday, December 21, 2018