on the barn flickering as driving snow blew past it—I could also see myself and the room where I stood. My reflection, the window a perfect mirror.
While my mind raced, imagining all sorts of terrible things, my body was completely motionless. When the snow swirled outside, it looked as if it swirled around me, but my body was still, and warm, and seemingly peaceful.
Right then, I knew. I needed to reverse the image.
I needed my thoughts to be peaceful in spite of the whirling storm. I needed to trust that Mike was doing what he could in order to come home safe. I had to find something to think about right then that would be good and positive and make me enjoy the moment—even enjoy the storm.
Which meant my body had to do the moving and let out the restlessness.
I went to the kitchen and made a pot of tea then started a batch of cookies. The whole time I worked, I thought about what Mike would like most once he got home from his cold, hard trip. How I could show how grateful I was for his work and his caring.
How I could show him love with my hands instead of standing there, frozen with fear, and rushing to him so he had to wipe my tears when he did finally make it home, cold and hungry.
While my revelation might not be the answer for everyone and every situation, it’s given me somewhere to aim my heart. Every morning I get up and think, “What can I do today to show I care? Is my mind calm and are my hands busy with good things?”
I can do this because all the while I know that Mike is doing the exact same thing—thinking of me. Working to make my life better and to show his love. It’s a two-way street, and it works.
And I suppose my story just proves that a mother can turn even a memory page into a life lesson.
Love you all.
[Images: A face reflected in a window. Warm meal on a table. Wrinkled hands busy knitting.]
26
July turned out to be hotter and muggier than any in recent record.
With all the kids home from school, and the house and the garden chores to be done, the days were filled to the brim. Jaxi was very grateful for an air-conditioned minivan to get the lot of them over to visit with family on a regular basis.
The third week of July, she stopped in at Dare’s. Jaxi had brought a number of prepared meals but mostly just wanted to spend time with her sister-in-law.
Dare’s foster sister greeted her at the door, the dark-haired woman grinning widely. “Hey, you. Need help with the munchkins?” Ginny asked.
“Hi, Auntie Ginny,” Rae and Becca shouted as they pushed past her into the house, one of them holding Lana’s hand, the other guiding PJ.
Jaxi adjusted Justin on her hip, holding out a package for Ginny to take. “Cabbage rolls. Marion and I made a big batch. You can pop them in the freezer and deal with them later.”
Ginny’s dark eyes widened with amusement, but she tossed her shoulder-length hair back over her shoulder then took the bag. “Efficient as always.”
“Never underestimate the power of a well-written to-do list,” Jaxi quipped back. “How’re you doing?”
“Learning about the wonders of sleep deprivation,” Ginny said over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen and put the food away.
“Oh, please.” Dare rolled her eyes from where she sat on the couch, pillows strategically lined up to help support the babies as she nursed them.
Ginny grinned. “What? I’m not a parent. I don’t have any parent genes, so not getting to sleep from when I want to go to bed until when I want to wake up is a hard thing.”
Vicki was there as well, sunk deep into a chair with one hand resting on the top of her baby-full belly. She gave Ginny a disbelieving look. “Honey, you live on a ranch. Or you did, and you will again. And on a ranch, thanks to animals, there is no such thing as going to bed when you want and waking up when you want, not unless Silver Stone is some sort of magical unicorn, in which case, can I move there?”
“Can you move, period?” Dare teased before turning to Jaxi and grinning evilly, all of her teeth showing. “It’s kind of fun that Vicki is just as immobile as I am right now, albeit for a totally different