Why won't winter go away? It's getting me down. I remember a winter a long time ago that just wouldn't quit. I was living in La Crosse, Wisconsin in a duplex with a woman I barely knew. I can't tell you now what she did. Her name was Diana. She was from Superior, Wisconsin and she wore a pound of makeup on her face everyday. A lot of work that makeup regimen.
Anyway. The snow. I was a sad girl in 1979. I had placed my darling baby girl with adorable, sticky-out ears for adoption. I went to mass every single morning to ask God to keep me sane, keep me going to work, keep me from sinking into a puddle of tears and regrets. I got up in the dark, tied my fashionable bow-tie blouse and slipped on my jacket and skirt and headed out the kitchen door to Holy Trinity church just a block from my place. When I stepped onto the porch I saw the three inches of new, wet snow. The sky hung grey and heavy, pressing down on my spirit and I simply leaned against the door and cried.
I cried about the snow, the grey, the baby, the loneliness.
I didn't make it to mass that day. But I did the next.
Anyway. The snow. I was a sad girl in 1979. I had placed my darling baby girl with adorable, sticky-out ears for adoption. I went to mass every single morning to ask God to keep me sane, keep me going to work, keep me from sinking into a puddle of tears and regrets. I got up in the dark, tied my fashionable bow-tie blouse and slipped on my jacket and skirt and headed out the kitchen door to Holy Trinity church just a block from my place. When I stepped onto the porch I saw the three inches of new, wet snow. The sky hung grey and heavy, pressing down on my spirit and I simply leaned against the door and cried.
I cried about the snow, the grey, the baby, the loneliness.
I didn't make it to mass that day. But I did the next.
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