Sunday, July 19, 2009

Switching Seasons Sunday

1 comment:

  1. Ada Whitman leaned heavily on her cane as she made tentative small steps onto the frozen deck. It was bitter cold there and everything was white-dusted and silent. Even the wind was quiet. Shiny icicles hung off the awning overhang and other fixtures like enormous crystal drop earrings. Ada’s gaze swept the landscape beyond her immediate surroundings and took in the snow and ice on bare trees, as far as the eye could see to the mountains far in the distance.

    Ada smiled. Yes. It was nearly just as she remembered it.

    Slowly, Ada made her way back to the car. John was still sitting in the front seat, with the motor running, probably just trying to keep warm. He didn’t move – it was quite customary by now, since Ada was so fiercely independent. Ada opened the passenger door to the front seat and somewhat awkwardly managed to swing herself around and sit down. She shut the door.

    “Ready to go now?” asked John.

    Ada nodded.

    John put the car into gear. Ada turned and watched from the rear window as the old house became smaller and smaller until it disappeared into its own aged, private winter.

    “So, did you get what you wanted?” asked John.

    “Oh yes,” said Ada. “It looked pretty much as it did the first time I was there, nearly 60 years ago.”

    “Then I hope it brought back some good memories for you, Ada,” said John.

    “It did,” said Ada. She suddenly started to giggle, sounding surprisingly adolescent.

    “What’s so funny?” asked John.

    Ada shook her head.

    “What?” asked John.

    “Nothing,” said Ada, adding, “and anyway, it happened long before I met you all those years ago.”

    John nodded and turned his focus back to the road. At the next intersection, he turned right and headed back towards the interstate highway. Ada leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

    Oh yes. It was almost exactly as I remembered it...a very young me with the man who would be president. We were so crazy then, making love on a frozen deck at a house in the middle of nowhere. And it all would have been so perfect, except for the bitter cold and that wild wind – and an icicle which somehow broke off from somewhere, and which fell and stabbed him in the ass.