Look at me, blogging away! I am proud to announce that I, Stephanie, have been waking up a full hour earlier so I can spend extra time writing! It has been the best thing ever -- that is if I do wake up when the alarm clock calls me to awareness.
Another item of my life must be added: Groundhog's day was a smashing success for us. We had a party, and believe me when I say it was a party. Definitely a great way to spend one of my last groundhog day's at home.
I am currently working on my bucket list, if anyone has any ideas on what should be on it then comment and let me know! Right now I'm stuck with stupid ideas like going on a last minute trip without telling anyone.
Here's a story for you all to enjoy. This is one that I wrote early this fall. I had a ton of fun writing it, although it isn't as free spirited as the last story it is still a story that is dear to my heart.
When the Door Closes
The sun began to rise over the tops of the trees. The golden light of the morning was the perfect compliment to the light orange of the leaves. The lacy delicate white frost covered the ground in simple patterns. Smoke rose from the chimney and snaked across the morning beauty.
Her hair was coiled into a tight bun on the top of her head, its golden thickness made it look like the sun rising over her head. She was dressed in a simple light pink dress with a cream colored apron. Her face slightly pale and her fingers white from the cold. Her head bobbed as she slept in the in the rocking chair with a little child wrapped in her arms. The light had just begun to stream through the window.
Everything seemed to be at peace that morning in the little cabin. There wasn’t a single thing out of place in the kitchen or living room. The fire had gone out, and a men’s work coat hung from the post of the stair railing. The sunlight stretched on the floor until it meet with the hand crocheted rug. Like everything else in the house the rug was clean and modest in color and wear.
Heavy foot steps on the stairs startled the sleeping women to awareness. Her neck was stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping position. As she rubbed her neck, to rid of it of stiffness, she looked down at the child sleeping in her arms. A tall man appeared at the bottom of the stairs. A second passed where their eyes locked and then grabbing his coat he walked out the front door.
Repositioning the child so it lay against her shoulder she stood up and walked carefully to the window and looked out on the early winter surroundings. She began to sway and hum to the little girl as she assessed the damage of the night. The light was shining against the frost. The wind had done its damage; leaves littered the yard and looked like little piles of fire on the dead grass. The serene beauty was a balm to her soul.
The draft from being so close to the window was chilling the baby’s legs. She laid the child on the floor and went to start the fire. Once the fire was started she turned to attend to the needs of her sick darling. The child was still. Kneeling down beside the sick baby she felt checked its temperature. She was burning up!
In her stockings she ran out to the garden. “Hun, Alana isn’t better at all! She’s turned for the worst. I’m afraid for her. She has a raging fever.” Her husband stood up and looked at the ground as he poked the black frostbitten pumpkin leaves. She looked down as well. Her cheeks were flushed and her fingers chilled and pale. She could feel the frost melt under her stocking feet.
“Answer me!” her voice cracked with frustration, the silence had gone too far. She pushed his chin up with two ice cold fingers causing his eyes to finally be seen by her own. “Our child, your only child is sick from exposure and you remain silent! She needs our help.” “Can’t, gotta get’em pum’kins. Frost near kill’em all last night.”
“Don’t talk like that! I know you know how to talk properly!” She was yelling with indigence. “Fine! I will! I’ve been working like a dog out here trying to beat the weather and look at what’s happened, a thief has come in the night and came this close to stealing every last pumpkin here!” “As thief in the night, a thief….” She muttered with her head bent in a contemplative reverence.
She turned her back on the dead garden and walked back to the house. As she turned around at the door she saw him, looking, his hands were hanging by his side with the palms out. His shoulders had slumped a bit. She shut the door quietly.
Stephanie Pointer
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