Monday, August 5, 2013

Imagine this was posted last Christmas, okay?

My sister dropped me off at my friend’s house much earlier than I’d planned. There was snow and slush everywhere, and I was still wearing my fancy outfit for our family picture, including skirt and non-waterproof shoes.

I knocked on the front door as my sister drove off. My hands were already cold and pink. No answer.

I knocked again, then phoned my friend’s cell. She answered, half an hour away at a Christmas tree lot.

My grandparents live one block over so I figured I’d walk over, have tea, change into my other outfit, and then come back later. No problem.

It was only a one block walk, but have you ever walked one block in sopping shoes and tights, through slushie snow, carrying a stuffed purse full of clothes you can’t wear yet, wondering how long it takes to get frostbite on your toes? It’s a long walk.

I made it to my grandparents, imagining tea and chocolate biscuits and warm carpet, and then they didn’t answer the doorbell.

So I rang again and peeked in the window. No lights, no movement.

Well, shit.

There was nowhere else to go so my wet feet and I headed around the back, through the gate, to the garden. My grandfather has a beautiful garden that was entirely covered in snow, except for the porch.

I had to get out of my clothes. I needed to get dry, and get dry now.

So in the back of my grandfather’s garden, huddled in the partially covered porch, I stripped off my tights and shoes, and changed into pants, socks and boots.

For any neighbours who may have glanced out their window at that time, I am very sorry. Very sorry.

I didn’t have a jacket but I had a light sweater so I sat on the back of the porch, overlooking the snow-covered garden and rocked back and forth while singing along to country songs on my iPod. Country songs know all about misery.

I texted my sister for some sympathy and she thought it was hysterical. Just as I was considering some form of self-cannibalism (approximately twenty minutes had past; I was desperate), I heard noise and realized my grandparents had arrived home, and got a text from my friend saying she was home too.

At the same time, I stopped myself from crying from joy, mostly because I was afraid the tears would freeze even though I know that’s not possible because they’re salty. Delirium had set in.

Then we went to a kids indoor carnival and I played with guns.

The end.