news&views Summer 2019 | Page 45

2018 Writing Contest Spring Salute Linda Hatfield Reluctantly, she empties the last sip of latte from her cup, licks the foam off of her lips, and gives her friend a hug. “Hang in there,” she says, with a rueful smile, “At least we’re in it together.” Scarf tied up and coat zipped tight, she makes her way along the slushy sidewalk past the high school - her alma mater, matter of fact - where once she jumped, pom-poms twirling, with such energy and confidence; moving gingerly, now, so as not to slip, her own creaking bones reminding her she’s a long way past seventeen and carefree. Absorbed in her thoughts, she almost misses it: a tiny blotch of colour nearly covered by the ice - a small, pink mitten - no doubt dropped by a passing stroller, whose grooves stripe the frozen pavement on the path ahead. Her eyes fill and emotions flood her mind: how long ago it feels: the jumbled, crazy days of overstuffed diaper bags and toddlers - stubborn and fussy and fearful; their tantrums and fevers and mayhem and mess weighing her down with constant worry, the stress of fitting everything in, the cooking and cleaning and driving, and playdates that provided distraction more for the moms than the kids. Now, with kids safely launched the nest is empty, yet she feels the familiar exhaustion from days that are crazy and jumbled all over again, this time, with overstuffed appointment calendars: her aging parents - stubborn, and fussy and fearful - filling her time with cooking and cleaning and driving and constant worry, and the stress of fitting everything in, and ploys to distract them from repeating their questions over and over again. Tenderly, she picks the mitten up looking for a spot to display it, knowing how the harried young mother will sigh and wonder where her daughter dropped it, and might just spot it on her next pass down the street. She walks towards a nearby scraggly tree and hangs the mitten on a small, upturned branch. As she waits on the corner for the light to change, she looks back, and manages another rueful smile: the tiny pink mitten - a beacon of hope - waves sweetly to the passers-by as if to say, “Ho, Ho… hey, hey… springtime soon is on its way!” Stepping off towards the other side, she reminds herself: “This, too, shall pass…” and, anyway, even Mother Nature needs a cheerleader now and then. ● news&views SUMMER 2019 | 45