NOTE: This is an on-going story (in ten parts) entitled "The Blizzard Coat."
To become more familiar with this entry, be sure to read back posts that entail earlier "parts."
Three uneventful seasons had passed and it was winter in Grand Folks once again. With only a semester left to complete before graduation, Annalie found herself sitting in the same Grand Forks coffee shop, this time on the frayed maroon couch with Eddie, marking their one year anniversary.
Eddie placed his Steamline Express next to one of the dragonfly lamps that sat on the oak end table. Two ugly pigeon sculptures watched the pair of them from their spot perched on either side of the lop-sided bookshelf mural that was painted onto the wall behind them. Annalie had just finished telling Eddie the tale of how her parents had spent their honeymoon, again. She gazed out of the window and imagined herself in her mother’s world as a flurry of icy feathers stained the atmosphere in white blotches outside.
The most significant thing that Eddie had observed about Annalie during their relationship was how her face glowed in the winter; the sparkle of the snow that reflected in her eyes was the magic that made the season bearable for him.
“I really think it’d be nice to be snowed in. No one can come to the door and bother you and you’re left with nothing entirely important to do but sleep and eat,” she paused and sipped her Christmas in a Cup. “It’s just you and your thoughts; it’d almost be like living in a dream.”
Eddie smiled. He could never wrap his mind around why Annalie loved everything about the winter. “Yeah, but what if you run out of food or need to get to a doctor? I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a blizzard then.”
Annalie pried her eyes off the window and frowned. “That’s not the point," she said and wiped the rim of her mug with her fingers.
“Then what is the point?” Eddie asked bluntly.
It took a few moments for Annalie to translate her feelings into words so that maybe this time Eddie could understand her. “It’s like you and your dog—”
“—my dog?” Eddie asked with a puzzled expression.
“Just listen,” Annalie scolded, tapping his wrinkled jeans with her hand. “When you plop down on the couch and the dog rests his head on your lap, you feel comfortable, like it’s home. He’s your best friend but he can’t talk to you and you only get to see him when you go to your Dad’s house for a weekend. But when you drive up to the house, he gallops down the driveway and you both get so excited at the feeling of familiarity and comfort and love. That’s what the snow is for me. I could be around it all the time, smothered in its security and endless conviction.” Annalie paused and took a deep breath. Her eyes reached up to the ceiling and she eagerly searched her mind for the absolute best words to describe her feelings. “A blizzard, to me, would be like an old friend, wrapping their arms around me, protecting me from mundane routine and welcoming me home.”
Eddie shook his head and a frivolous chuckle escaped, “Geez Annalie," he started. "Some girls want the moon and the stars, but only you would want a blizzard.”
Annalie didn’t say anything but tugged at a loose thread on her sleeve. Eddie, thinking he had just forced a painful splinter into the skin of their relationship, put his arm around her and replied, “If it was ever possible, Annalie, I would give you a blizzard.”
Smiling, Annalie shook her head from side to side, brushing away his remark as a joke.
“No, really, I promise,” he insisted. “How much snow would you like in your blizzard?” He asked as though he were copying down a recipe. “Three feet? Ten feet? We could go for a world record.”
Annalie sighed. “You still don’t get it Eddie.”
”I’m trying to Annalie.”
She faced him, placed her pale hand against his scruffy cheek and said, “I know Eddie, that’s why I love you.”
Annalie smiled at the memories that the snowfall had brought her. Her mind quickly glanced over the fact that Eddie had taken her to Finland for their honeymoon, in hopes of running into a blizzard. They only experienced Finland’s warmest winter on record.
Smiling at her husband’s sweet but stubborn persistence, she tucked young Mason tighter into his blankets and decided to return to bed. The ground would be covered in a thin layer of snow by morning, she hoped, and another flood of memories would overcome her dreams.
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