Today is the first day of winter, also the shortest day of
the year. Winter often reminds me of my mom.
She loved the beauty of the snow and ice—not actually getting around in
it on the roads – but observing it, playing in it. Snow days off from
school meant she didn’t clean anybody’s house either. We would bake cookies, make snowmen, drink hot
chocolate and make crafts. My mom never seemed to have a “breakdown” in the
winter months. When it happened it was usually in the summer. Maybe the heat
got to her head. We moved around a lot to little two room apartments. In the
winter they provided safety, security and warmth. Even if the gas bill wasn’t
paid they couldn’t cut your gas off when it was below zero many nights. We were inside. During the summer our
apartment was always hotter than it was outside on the humid sun-baked streets. One landlord
accidently painted all our windows shut, so we had fans up around the house
that just circulated the heat and cat hairs. It always felt like you were being cooked. Summer also brought out the
roaches that we battled against and always lost. It is hard to relax your brain
in the evening when you suddenly see quick movement around you, and my mom was
already naturally nervous. Heat and
bugs, I used to believe that’s what caused it. Winter was nice. Everything
clean and white, lights dancing and flickering on our little fake Charlie Brown
Christmas tree that we dragged around with us from place to place. Wherever she is now, if there is anywhere to
be, I know it is chilly, with glistening snow, diamond cut jagged icicles
hanging from trees and patterns of frost and snowflakes frozen to a window
pane.
