Frozen Moments

The old farmhouse where I lived through my fifth grade year, was a cold son-of-a-gun. No doubt, the insulation was minimal, the windows one-paned, and the heating system inadequate. But it was home, and us three kids who had never known any other way of life were content and satisfied.  I’m guessing we were every bit as happy  as our contemporaries – Caroline and John Kennedy – living in the White House.

The old house had only two bedrooms – both located up the creaky, wooden steps on the second level. As the two oldest children, Dave and I shared the largest room. Connie, still in the crib, occupied the space between Mom and Dad’s bed and the north wall. Our heating system for this upper level consisted of leaving the stairway door open and hoping a bit of the heat from the oil stove below floated upward. Not much did.

Speedy, our small three inch turtle, lived in a plastic aquarium on the top of Dave’s dresser. Dave, unless we’d had a recent spat, would let me cross the imaginary line that separated his portion of the room from mine so that I could spend time with Speedy, too.

It was a frigid winter night when Mom brought us both an extra quilt to add to the  mound already on our beds. Shivering and teeth chattering, we didn’t argue. Having changed into our flannel pajamas with lightening speed, we dove beneath the covers of our beds, intentionally leaving our socks on. Mom tucked the quilts beneath our chins before bidding us good-night.

The next morning, I slipped my arm from beneath the covers and yanked my clothes from the nearby chair, slipping them beneath the covers with me.  When I felt confident they had warmed to a tolerable level, I thrust my legs into the denim pants and quickly pulled the long-sleeved sweatshirt over my head.  Dave appeared to be doing comparable maneuvers beneath his covers.

Although Mom had thought to bring us extra quilts that night, no one had thought about Speedy.  “Come, look,” Dave called, as he motioned me to hurry. Oh my…poor Speedy! His aquarium water was frozen solid around him and only his small snout stuck above the ice. As I think back on it, this surely had to have been one of Speedy’s worst moments.

Sometimes we tend to freeze people in their worst moments. We remember the poor choices they’ve made or the hurt they’ve caused. We often don’t make any effort at reconciliation, protecting ourselves based on past experiences. But, does anyone deserve to be frozen in time based on their worst moments? Even Speedy thawed out as the room warmed and it now seemed he enjoyed paddling about with increased vigor. Maybe, those we once had a relationship with, but now hold at arm’s length, would do the same if we warmed them up with a smile,  a pat on the back, or an encouraging call.

Until next month, keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

(If this style of writing appeals to you, check out the Book Page on this same website and see how you can get my books.)