Days of Winter

Days of Winter

  By Anne Spackman

  Copyright 2014

  By Anne Spackman

  Dreams are the hardest things to say good-bye to.

  Kassandra was sitting on the ground under an oak tree and on a blanket she had brought to enjoy the cool, sunny weather. Until a moment ago, she had been reading a second-hand copy of Plato’s Republic.

  It was October, and the leaves were starting to turn red and yellow, and they had started to fall. It hadn’t yet turned cold, and it was warm enough that Kassandra felt comfortable in only a light sweater. A bold squirrel had just decided to crawl up her shoe in his quest for part of her cucumber and cream cheese bagel. Kassandra laughed at him, and picked off the end to feed him. Amazingly enough, the semi-tame squirrel reached forward to take the bit of bagel in his tiny hands. Then, he sat back and crawled off of her foot to nibble away at the bagel from a more appropriate distance. Was he a gray or a red squirrel? She didn’t know. He was finished with the bagel in no time and returned to advancing upon Kassandra. She ignored him this time.

  Kassandra had brought herself a little picnic in her backpack. A plastic tub of strawberries for her nutella, some celery sticks, and the bagel. There was one other person picnicing in the park in the distance, but not too close to her. Kassandra finished her little spread and got up and brushed the crumbs off of her jeans. She packed everything into her backpack and headed back to her apartment, stopping to skip in the leaves on the road, but not disheveling the piles her neighbors had already raked. Fall was gloriously here, with its colors and the mist in the air.

  That afternoon, she had realized how alone she felt, how much more she wanted to learn about life and about others without being hurt too much, and yet, she had this feeling that her mind could only handle so much new information. Maybe she could push herself in increments?

  The man she had loved, but to whom she had never spoken of her feelings of love, had gotten married last year. She remembered their friendship and had to let go of any dreams she had entertained because they would not come to pass now. She hadn’t said anything to him, and that was her own fault, she supposed. And it didn’t matter now, whether it was her fault or not. It just had turned out this way.

  Kassandra had friends, and would be all right, she was sure. But calling her friends right now wasn’t something she felt like doing. As she came into her bedroom, she turned on the overhead fan really fast, as fast as it would go—it wasn’t hot inside, but she liked the sound of the fan. She sat down on her bed and tried to read more of Plato’s Republic, but her interest had waned for today, and she instead fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  The winter came early, and snow fell in early December. It was below freezing outside, and Kassandra had to go out and get the snow piles off of her small car. That took a few minutes, but she wasn’t really going anywhere yet. She went inside and made a cup of hot cocoa with mini marshmallows floating on top.

  Kassandra liked winter, strangely enough, except when it got severely cold. Something about the peacefulness of freshly fallen snow outside comforted her, and it was nice to snuggle up indoors if you could stay inside without having to go out. Moreover that time right before Christmas was wonderfully festive.

  The day was Saturday, and she didn’t really have anything planned yet. However, there was no reason to brave the cold snow piles outside or face the icy roads, unless she had somewhere to be.

  She loved reading, and returned to her room and put a stack of books on her bed with the astronomy book on top. She sat down to read and curled up on her bed for a few hours. At noon, she headed in for lunch and then decided to go out on a walk and to the store on foot—she didn’t like driving over icy roads. The day was overcast, a “seagull day” she called it—and how she liked seagulls. She used to feed them when she went to the beach, but they could get a tad aggressive, and that used to bother her, when the big ones bullied away the smaller ones.

  Now she had shopping to do—but didn’t really feel much like it today. Still, she headed to the supermarket and got her basic vegetables and crackers, and some cranberry juice. She was not ready for John to be there. But he was. And he looked just the same.

  “Kassandra?” he said, coming up behind her. “No goat cheese?”

  “Hi, John,” she said. “Not today.”

  “You look great. Have you been exercising?”

  “Not any more than the usual amount. So how is Lisa—isn’t that your wife’s name?”

  “Fine. We’re both fine. But it was good running into you. I hadn’t seen you in a year or so, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, take care,” said John as she paid for her food.

  “I will. Bye,” she said, waving, as she left. She had tears in her eyes by the time she reached the door, but she was glad she was facing away from John.