The First Day of Winter

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.