Lost and Found

Lost and Found

It was Friday, December 1.  Winter opened her left eye … 8:12am. She would normally be at work by now, but today was the first of 10 vacation days. She stretched, yawned, and pushed up onto one elbow to look out the window. Ugh!

Falling back heavily onto her pillow, she pulled the covers up to her chin, rolled over to her right side, moved her knees and arms to the fetal position, and closed her eyes.

She woke again at 8:57am, noticing that she hadn’t budged an inch, and enjoyed the muscle and joint relief as she straightened out her limbs. Clearly, it was time to get up, and with some reluctance, she abandoned her bed and stood naked before her bedroom window, looking morosely at the season’s first significant snowfall, a monster storm still very much in progress.

Impervious to the cold air, she stood and stared out the icy window, stewing at her plight. She was to have been in the air by now, heading for Vancouver to board a trans-Canadian train to Toronto, snug in her luxurious private room… dining, sipping fine wine, and relishing one beautiful vista after another. But that was all scrapped last night, as flights were cancelled, and connections were irretrievably lost to the storm.

Fortunately, she had insured her trip, and full refunds were in progress, but that was of little consolation. Despite her name, Winter was not a fan of winter, nor of its holidays, for that matter. She made it a point to escape Chicago every December. These annual solo retreats were always to faraway, quiet, beautiful places, where she could be anonymous, write, rest and brace herself for the tedium of the season and the urban holiday madness to come.

If it kept snowing for ten days, she mused, she could enjoy this view and those from her kitchen and front room, as well, with evergreen limbs sagging bravely under the weight of the fresh snow, and vacant streets invisible under sheets of pure white cotton candy. But she knew that was not to be. The tree dressing would last only briefly, and the streets would soon be a gray-black, half-frozen mess transporting her and other irritated drivers to whatever doldrums they pursued.

With a near-empty fridge in advance of her planned trip, she would have to dig out and go to the store, only to prepare meals that would not be so great, clean up the dishes, and try to dive into a writing project that might help her forget her lost holiday.

Her freezing body finally got her attention, and she dashed to the bathroom, emerging 25 minutes later feeling better after humanization activities, including a steaming-hot shower.

She surveyed her fridge and found enough frozen stuff to get her through the day… not fine dining, but tasty and virtually no prep or cleanup. All in all, the day turned out to be pleasant, if not joyous… typing at her computer while periodically glancing out the window as the snow wound down, while Chopin, Rodrigo, et al filled the air.

The next day brought some warming, and the plowed, soon-slushy streets were all too visible. Gone with the warmth and a strong wind, was the tree frosting, but in less time than it took to transform a winter wonderland into a dismal blight, the mercury plunged back down to single digits, as if mocking Winter and others who had not immediately cleared their front porches and driveways.

Regardless, with her freezer compartment now depleted, Winter could defer the dreaded dig-out no longer. Hers was a small, one-bedroom ranch on a slab, in a neighborhood of small, one-bedroom ranches on slabs… all likely built in the ‘50s by the same or copycat builders.

She had purchased her corner home six years earlier, at age 26, and in all that time she didn’t know any of her neighbors. Her only adjacent neighbor, in the nearly identical house next door to her right, had been an older man, who rarely went out and whom she had never met.  He had only one visitor that Winter could recall seeing… a 30ish woman who visited most Sundays.  From the ambulance siren that roused her late one night a few weeks earlier, followed by occasional sightings of the woman but not the old man, Winter assumed that the man had passed away. She guessed that the woman, presumably the old man’s daughter, must have moved in temporarily, to manage his things, as her car frequently overnighted in the driveway.

Winter phoned Jim, the neighborhood teen who had been making money with his dad’s snow-thrower for the last few seasons, and he was soon battling the frigid conditions clearing her walk and driveways. When he was nearly finished, she bundled-up and went outside with a teapot and two empty cups in hand.

She tried not to stare at the frozen snot above his lip, and while he sipped the steaming hot chocolate, she poured one for herself. As she set the pot down by her feet, they were interrupted by the new neighbor, calling out from her front door, “Excuse me, but I don’t suppose you could add me to your customer list, sir? I’m new here and don’t know anyone who can help me move this mountain of snow.”

“No problem, mam, I’ll do it right away… sixty bucks ok?”

“Sure, thanks so much. Just knock when you’re finished… I’ll be here, and thanks again.”

“This hot chocolate really hits the spot, Miss Summers,” Jim said. “I’ve been out here for hours, and I needed something warm in my belly… thanks a lot.”

“That’s the least I can do,” Winter responded, “First the huge snowfall, and now these bitter temps are a tough start to the season, and I wouldn’t want to be out here doing what you’re doing.”

Noticing her trembling against the wind, he said, “It’s ok, that’s what I’m getting paid for. But when you go out after I’m finished, be careful. With the thaw and then the hard freeze, the unsalted side streets are sheets of ice. And this wind can be dangerous, so you don’t have to stand out here with me in this freezing cold… I’ll knock on your door in a few minutes when I’m finished, and I can return your cup then.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Jim… thanks,” Winter replied through chattering teeth. She grabbed the empty teapot and made a bee line for her front door, teeth audibly rattling by the time she got there.

She had just begun to warm up when she heard the knock on her door. She opened it and said, “Step in for a minute and warm-up, Jim.”

“Oh, no, mam, I’d better not,” he replied, handing her his empty cup. “It would only make me colder when I got back out here, and I still have a lot left to do today. I have to take full advantage of days like this, if I want to pad my bank account… but thanks anyway.”

“Ok,” she smiled, “here’s your check. I made it out for myself and for the lady next door… she just moved in recently, and it will be my housewarming gift to her… and I added a tip for hazardous duty pay.”

“Wow, thanks Miss Sommers,” he replied, wide-eyed above what was now a fully formed snotsicle protruding from his nose.  “I appreciate it, and just call whenever you need me. I’ll let the neighbor lady know how nice you were… have a great rest of your day.”

Winter closed the door behind her, paused and leaned back against it. She felt good. She didn’t quite know how to interpret her spontaneous act of paying for the new neighbor’s snow removal, having never even met her, but somehow it made her feel good, so it must be… well… good.

She had never done anything like that before, having always kept to herself. She enjoyed her solitary life, or at least, she thought she did. Maybe her atypical act had something to do with her lost vacation… maybe like a reaching out to replace something that was lost.

Or maybe it was in sympathy for the neighbor’s presumed loss of her father, or maybe guilt for never having introduced herself to the father during his lifetime. Or maybe it was the new neighbor’s attractive manner and pleasant voice… maybe that combined with some instinct to come out of her solitary life and invite someone in.

Winter walked over to the full-length dressing mirror on the closet door and stood looking at herself… thinking that might help her solve the puzzle. Hmm, 32 years old, and she didn’t really understand herself… that was interesting. The girl in the mirror seemed to have, like the new girl next door, an attractive manner, and an ok voice, she supposed. Hmm.

She moved over to her desk, opened her laptop to a new word document, and typed, “?”. She thought back to her childhood, her adolescence, her high school and college years, her independence, her early career, and in recent years, her accumulating financial security.

She was an avid writer, and generally she could quickly turn a blank page into a flow of thoughts, but this time her fingers weren’t moving. She looked at the all-but-empty page and just kept mulling over her past and present, searching for the answer to that question mark.

None came to her, and after what must have been an hour since Jim had left, she heard another knock on the door. The knock pulled Winter Summers from her blank-page trance, and when she opened the door, a frozen gust of air rushed in, past the new neighbor girl, who stood smiling, a steaming teapot of something in her left hand and two empty cups in her right… a warm smile on her attractive, 30ish face.