Twenty

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Collette’s twentieth birthday came up dark and cold, just as she liked, with a great wind that passed from time to time. It seemed good on such a day far into December. And she hoped it might continue through the week. There was nothing worse than a sunny Christmas morning, she had always thought, unless it took place back in the old days. And hopefully, the skies would cooperate for her first Christmas away from home.

She had slept very poorly the night before. The room had been quite warm, and she found herself not breathing from time to time and having to catch her breath when she realized. Strange dreams had come and gone, and she had been very thirsty early on in the night. She woke at five and later saw the sunrise just come up, creamy and parched, just behind the gray billows before it was completely covered with the darkness of the sky. It seemed to be a sad day.

But her spirits were lightened a bit, and she went to the kitchen to make French toast for OLeif’s breakfast, as the poor sleepy bear was still hibernating under the warm covers.