Reminisce

Somehow I knew that it would be cold today.
         The weeks before November 12 had been unseasonably warm. As I strolled through the park I saw people smiling, running around in short sleeved tee shirts. They would buy ice-cream, licking at it frantically to prevent it from melting all over their hands. They would walk hand in hand with their lovers, admiring how the crunchy fall leaves felt under their soft bare feet. I would sit on the park bench, listening to music from my mp3 player that was so outdated I was embarrassed to show it, and hit it in my sweatshirt pocket. Looking around, I was the only one that was covered up in any way. I got a lot of stares. One girl commented that my shoes looked beaten up, and then asked me if I was a hobo. I told her to fuck off, the shoes have sentimental value.
         Today, on the other hand, was cold. Bounce on your toes, chatter your teeth, rub your arms cold. I could see the cloud of my breath contrast against the dark air. I dug my frosty fingers deep into the fleece pockets of my winter coat. Notice it's called a winter coat, not a fall coat. The sky was the kind of grey that you knew meant snow. Sure enough, on that mid afternoon the sky gave birth to cold frosty flakes that coated the earth within seconds. As I was walking down main street, I managed a slight chuckle. The street was mostly deserted, except for a few determined people who wanted to get things done despite the weather. Most of them were bundled up tight, almost wobbling from all the layers of clothing they were wearing, but there were a few teenagers standing around their normal hangouts wearing nothing but tee shirts and shorts. It was quite ridiculous.
         As I neared the bakery, I saw a very close couple, a bit older than me, maybe late twenties, looking deeply into each others eyes. I marveled at the fact that neither of them tripped, despite paying no attention to their surroundings. The deep looks they were giving each other were only reserved for lovers. The woman looked beautiful, but quite poor, her tattered coat did not at all do her justice. The man looked like an upper middle class, his pleather jacket made me believe he was an environmental activist for some reason. Finally, the girl slipped on a patch of ice and fell on the sidewalk, pulling the boy down with her. The boy laughed and poked her nose where a huge snowflake had landed, the girl giggled at him. He finally decided to get up and pulled her up with him. They both continued on their way. As I walked past, I noticed that the place they had landed looked like a crime scene, the outlines of their bodies were defined by the snow which had melted upon their touch.
         I wondered if anyone had ever died there.
         After reaching the bakery, I decided a little breakfast wouldn't hurt.
         The interior of the bakery had changed since the last time I had been there. I remembered when Tony and I were little kids and we would come here every day. All we had was small change, but the baker, whose name was Frank, would patiently stand there and count our change for us, before handing us each a big long French bread. At the time, we weren't aware that we didn't ever have enough money to pay, Frank would give it to us just because we were cute.
         Unfortunately, Frank was old, and just like anything aging, he died. I remember hearing about it a few days after I moved into college. It was a very sad day. I ended up going to his funeral and was amazed at how many lives he had touched. Almost everyone in town was there to pay their respects. I cried a bit, but not much and then went on with my life.
         Frank was replaced with a young, inexperienced baker named Seth. Although quite attractive, Seth did not know the first thing about how to run a bakery, nor did he really know much of anything else. Seth greeted me at the cash register with a grim smile. I was actually surprised he still worked there.
         "Are you ok?" he asked, sympathetically touching my shoulder, "I heard about what happened to-"
         "I'm fine. Is the French bread any good today?' I asked, shrugging his hand off of me.
         "Uh-" He said ready to protest.
         "French Bread." I repeated, more sternly.
         "Of course!" he yelled slightly too loud. I nearly laughed as he scrambled into the back.
         Five minutes later, as I was checking my watch, he reappeared with a rather large French bread loaf, wrapped up in white paper.
         "Just take it," he mumbled, thrusting the bread at me, "you have had a hard week."
         I rolled my eyes, slapped ten bucks on the counter, and walked out. After leaving, I regretted leaving ten bucks, wishing I had left five instead. I was trying to lower my monthly spending after all.
          A block later hunger overtook me and I unwrapped one end of the monstrous bread, taking a huge bite of it and chewing, tasting all of it's warm crisp goodness while keeping one eye on the changing light. The snow had started to accumulate a lot more on the sidewalk, and it was getting harder to drag my feet through it.
         I walked past the park and was taken aback by the beauty of it. All of the trees were coated with the snowy white powder. There were children at the top of the big hill, loading on the sleds and racing down the hill. At the end they all tumbled off in one big soaked and cold heap. I watched as one girl stood on the sled and pushed herself down the hill, still standing. She fell before she was even halfway down and rolled the rest of the way, landing on top of the pile of others. They all laughed, grabbed their sleds, and ran back up the hill. A family was standing far away. The mother was holding up a toddler, so bundled up she could barely move her arms, and the father was helping her put a carrot nose on their lopsided snowman. They all clapped, cheered and giggled, signaling the completion of their snowman. The little girl laughed and smiled so big. It was amazing what you could see in her happy little eyes. The wonder of snow, the cold, the big white world. It all seemed overwhelming to her.
         I continued walking, shielding myself against the cold as I trudged on, remembering when I was that small. Our town had few children at that point. I was only friends with Tony. During snow storms we would build weird monsters in the park, and then wreck them all down before a single person saw our works of art. The one year we built a palace. It was really just a pile of snow that we found from when the park keeper (who we called George behind his back), had shoveled the paths. We hallowed it out, and gave it a lookout post, and called it our own castle. I was the queen, he was the king, we ruled over the ice land and no one could stop us from world domination. We had crowns of sticks, and the only royal robes he had were our fluffy winter coats. Ah, those were the days.
         The snow slowed a bit, going from blizzard-like to more of a gentle falling. I approached the gates of the cemetery, dragging my feet through the shin-deep snow, and carefully slipped through them, closing the gate behind me. I ran up to my mother, who was standing over a grave, with half dead flowers in her one hand, and Katie grasping on to the other. My mother looked up and I saw her makeup was running down her face. It looked a bit funny, because the tears had started to freeze on the way down. My mother's black dress was flecked with snow.
         "Oh, Susan, you’re here." She said blankly.
         "Mommy!" Katie squealed, trying desperately to run to me through the deep snow.
         "Hi honey." I replied, picking her up and looking worriedly at my mother, trying to keep my tears from falling. "You ok, mom?" I asked her.
         "Fine," she said, looking down at my father's grave, "I was just worried when you ran out of the funeral."
         "Sorry about that," I sniffed, squeezing Katie closer," it was just a bit too much for me, you know."
         "I understand. When your father died I didn't attend the graveside service because I couldn't stand to see him be placed in the ground. What's that?" She asked, eyeing my bread.
         "Oh, bread from the bakery. You want some?" I asked, a single tear running down my cheek.
         "Oh, it's fine honey." She replied," are you ready to go over? They're waiting."
         "I suppose," I replied, burying my face in Katie's shoulder and crying full out.
         "Are we going to see daddy now?" Katie asked, looking at my tear streaked face.
         "Yeah, baby, Let's go see Daddy."
         We walked over to an area in the middle of the cemetery. A whole lot of people were packed under a canopy arranged around a grave, a coffin arranged over the fresh hole. An attendant handed me, my daughter, and my mother a rose and directed us to a few seats in the front. The pastor looked at me and I nodded.
         "Dearly beloved we gather here today to bury our dear friend, father, son, husband, Anthony Grey…"
         I finally let go, and broke down.