Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Warmth of Hope

I stand in the cold holding myself around the waist. I look at your window, teary eyed, as white specks cross my face. I don't see you, but I only hope your there. In my thick, tan, fuzzy, coat I rub myself to keep warm.

The street is empty, only few cars parked near driveways but there are no people. Only me in this blizzard.

Frost bitten, I open my hand to reach the door and I hear a crack.

No, not from an opening door but my hand. My hand has been staying in the same position for such a long time, my skin cracked open and warm blood trickling down my grey skin. I start screaming, a voice that could not come out. It was difficult but I try to look away and, at my best, ignore the pain my hand was causing. I knock on the door.

I hope your here, I think. What if your not? What if the Ice Age came into your home, then...And then what? What will I tell Sophie? Your father is dead, grand mama, sissy, and auntie too. They have been here before I left them, I only went to the grocery store then this sudden storm broke out. I have left my eldest son with my youngest daughter, Sophie. They, too, were hoping that the rest of our family were still alive. They weren't far behind me, in fact they were watching me.

The door creaks open, a smiling friendly face stands in the doorway, lighting surrounding the back of him. Voices follow after the creak, familiar voices to be exact.

"Who is it?"

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