It was cold and a little windy, but the temperature had moderated since Sunday. Lottie was delighted to find the rubber ice on the puddles as she made her way home from school. It promised to be dark soon, but it was delicious fun to traverse the puddles hearing the squeak of the rubbery ice and seeing the water moving beneath it. The ice would give and never crack like the sheet ice on the puddles in the cold mornings.
She felt quite alone in the late afternoon light. It was oddly pleasant to be so by herself. She knew it was partly in anticipation of her mother's greeting, knowing she was close to home that added to her pleasure. The stress of the school day had evaporated in the fresh air when the bell rang, the doors opened, and she and her schoolmates spilled out into the smoky afternoon.
She wasn't one to go play at a friend's house. She was likely to aim for home like a bird coming back to its nest. Home was warm and safe- though she carried her fears with her even there. Fear of the dark, but not fear of the cold. She loved the cold on her cheeks. Even if her hands were cold, it was a thing to be put up with- not a thing to be regretted.
When she was smaller, it wasn't the cold that made her beg to come inside. Her mother patiently bundled and booted the small figure, hatted and mittened her and then sent her outside to play in the beautiful snow. But she immediately cried to come in, not because of the temperature but because of the dog. The big police dog who bounded down the alley from the house next door was her nemesis then.
In later years she slept out on the screen porch long after her siblings had left for the warm beds upstairs and she never gave up until she awaked with snow on her blankets. Then she moved in reluctantly.
She was dozing again, she knew. The television chatter was interrupting her mother's voice welcoming her in the back door. It washed out the sight of the afternoon snow and powdered trees, and the rubber ice dissolved into the green carpeting beneath her slippered feet.
("I think I indicated that I'm fond of it myself--it is based on my own walk home from school on winter days--except for the ending, it is autobiographical--several years ago (can't remember how many) some magazine--maybe Good Housekeeping (strangely enough) featured one page short stories." )
