‘Do you know him?” my sister asked and I paused, but only for a moment.
There was a chill in the air as I walked down the hallway, my head hung low in guilt and shame. I slowly turned the deadbolt. The door creaked open and a rush of cold air washed over me as I stepped barefoot onto the brick. I wasn’t ready for this. Not again. Not so soon.
Chinese food. It was a good choice for a Monday night, having just pulled back into town after a long day in Atlanta.
‘Excuse me,” she said and I turned from my perusal of the wall of cute khaki and navy pants to a woman standing near me holding up a blue and tan striped tank top and a blue skirt. “Do you think these look good together? Cute?”
It started in middle school. It was a teacher’s fault actually, a responsible adult, who first introduced me to it. Out of the blue.
She was having a hard time.
It was something we just did, sometimes early in the afternoon or late in the day before the sun went down. Most likely it was Sunday, sometimes Saturday but most always Sunday after lunch was done and Shirley Temple was over on television.
‘What did you learn today?” I asked and was met with a look of surprise.
Obviously, the baby was fussy. “What do you think it is?” the man, apparently the father of the little person wiggling around in a blue, padded stroller in the middle of the electronics section of Target, asked.
I remember a lot of them. Bits and pieces, some of them. Memories of Christmas.
“Once you wrote about a comfortable peace at Christmas,” this person wrote. “Please tell us again.”
Damn you, Folgers coffee.
Dear Santa, I know it’s been a while since I’ve been in touch — a couple of decades, at least — and I’m really sorry about that.
There are many truly thought provoking questions in life that render me sleepless.