A Year of Winter

sixteen

I’m a little lamb lost in the wood

Oh, I know I could always be good

To one who’ll watch over me

And then I shut my eyes closed, feeling myself drift back to sleep beside Winter, our heartbeats slowing down to match one rhythm as if that is how things should’ve been all along.

❄

January 20th, 2013

I woke up to the sound of sirens blaring in the distance. And when I opened my eyes, Winter was no longer beside me.

I felt my heart sink to my stomach, my throat closing in on itself, my head spinning; where could she have gone, I thought? I had her, and then I lost her so easily.

But where could she have gone?

Feeling dizzier by the moment, I held my head in my hand, trying to raise myself up so that I could think properly. I heard the blaring of sirens off in the distance, and I wondered what was happening so that it had to so rudely awaken me when the sun had barely even yet to touch the horizon.

I scrambled up to my feet, my head nearly hitting the low ceiling as I tried my best to coordinate myself. If I’d been anyone else, I would’ve kicked myself the moment I regained balance. I was so stupid to just let her slip from my fingers. She obviously didn’t want to be found, and I just let her get away.

Feeling the cold wrap itself around me like a blanket, I shivered. It seemed as though Winter had absconded with my jacket, which made me feel somehow sad. I didn’t know why I’d expected anything less, though. Her main objective was to run away. My feelings weren’t exactly any sort of variable in that equation.

I inched towards the ladder, wondering if I might still be able to catch her when the sirens yet again pierced my ears. I cursed underneath its howl, adjusting my glasses to see better what the whole fuss was about. But the moment I peered out of the tree house, I could see on the ground exactly what was wrong.

Both of my parents, accompanied by Hattie, and a million other police officers and a few paramedics scattered around the scene. I gazed down from the immeasurable height, only to have my mother peer up at me, her eyes brighten. She pointed up at me, “He’s awake!” She exclaimed, grabbing my father by his sleeve, shaking it restlessly, “Seth, Henry’s awake!”

My father looked up at me, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he began to smile. Hattie looked up, holding a hand to her chest, as if to stop it from bursting out of her skin.

My mother tugged on the sleeve of a police officer, gesturing to me, saying something I didn’t quite catch. But before I knew it or could process what was going on, two police officers had helped me down the ladder, as if I was a small boy who couldn’t protect himself from a ladder.

Once I got to the ground, it all seemed to be quite blurred, as it all happened so quickly. My mom rushed to hug me; my father tussled my hair; Hattie gave me a quick squeeze, a sort of sisterly-brotherly bond expressed less in words and more in smiles that creased her face when she saw me dispatched from the policemen’s grip.

And in the haze of the moment, I thought, in the distance that I could see a familiar face with a flash of orange hair. I squinted my eyes, peering over my mother’s shoulder, only to see Bronwyn; she was accompanied by a strict looking man, probably in his 50s, and a tired woman, who looked as if she’d once been beautiful, before time ravaged her features. They looked over to me, and I tried to make out their faces more, but could only see Bronwyn flash me a rather sad smile before my mother ripped me away from their line of sight.