Page 39 of When the Snowman Whispered
Each day is crazier and crazier. How do people walk around and not go crazy?
As the moon rose, I pushed away all those insane thoughts and shifted to reminiscing about the old days—Daniel’s touch and kind words, the little presents he would drop by and the hikes we’d take down Harper Road.
A cool wind brushed by and disturbed the fire. Flames danced in the breeze, twisting and turning to their own melody. They were golden orange ballerinas blazing on blue slippers that tip toed all over the logs. Smoke lifted from the dancers burning tips. Dark pieces of log cracked from their scorching pressure, broke apart, and grayed into ash.
Since moving back, I’d learned the hard way that starting a fire was difficult in the cold of winter. Granted, it was probably harder to start one in the middle of a rainstorm. Nevertheless, snow triggered problems to a fire. Heat, not a flame, caused fuel to burn. In the cold of winter, I had to raise the temperature of the fuel further, so that it would ignite.
A winter fire was just like life. To succeed one had to keep working and working at making sure the fire stayed alive. One had to put a stone floor down and make sure it was an inch or two above the ground, so that the fire sat on the stones and not the wet earth. One had to put up heat reflectors when building a fire in the snow. A big tree or large stone to keep the warmth near and the cold out.
Mom always said that to be happy, I had to keep some distance between me and the world. Not get so caught up in the day-to-day madness or I’d get sucked in.
If not, the fire inside of me would go out.
One had to clear a place to pile extra firewood. Tinder, kindling, and fuel. Sections of trunks and chunks of a tree stump.
That’s why I’d been meditating more and sitting in silence. Many sites and gurus preached about that being the path to enlightenment. In these days and times, enlightenment didn’t sound like a bad idea.
Maybe I should go meditate now.
The idea of being inside my head caused frazzled sensations to creep within me. That very fact symbolized my need to get my mind together. Fix the broken parts that had become cracked and shattered from my marriage.
Instead of sitting out with these snow people and waiting for them to come alive, I should’ve been inside and working on the fire inside of me. Clearing a place for the pile of firewood and searching for fuel—doing the things that made me stronger.
I’d even been pondering the possibility of having Daniel back in my life.
The more I thought about it, the more happiness seemed probable in this messed up world.
However, my fire would have to wait for now.
I couldn’t let Remy and the other snow people go, yet.
Last night, they’d come alive.
Remy had walked in my dreams and made love to me.
For some reason, all of this had happened to me. I had to discover why.
Was it God trying to tell me something? Was it the mojo bag? Was Hoodoo real? Or was this all in my head?
If they don’t move tonight, then I should consider the fact that I may need to talk to a head doctor.
An odd noise sounded behind me. I picked up my flame torch and turned toward the noise. Nothing. The fire crackled. The wind whipped. The trees dropped bits of melting snow onto the ground. My snow people remained in their cells.
A ding came from my left.
This is happening.
A horn blared on my right.
Colorful sparks burst in the air.
I jumped back and screamed.
Beautiful shades of pink exploded around bright greens and glittering purples. More glimmering colors shattered the silent black of the air.
The falling snow disappeared.
Warmth flowed around me. That same heat from the other night swarmed around me.
