We ran and did our best to hide from the crazy people. Too bad, there was no easy way to point out the insane and hateful.
Skin color didn’t identify my enemies.
The heart did. And now more than ever, it was hard to figure out what pumped inside of everyone’s hearts. Terror and mayhem divided us. Insane wolves danced in blood, while the media marched the sheep toward the slaughter.
How do people move on when the world is dying around them?
“Mommy, why do you look sad?” Rose asked.
“I’m fine. Everything is going to be okay.” I smiled at her. “Where’s your sister?”
“Don’t know.” Rose stared at my sculpture. “Is that Daddy’s hat on the snowman’s head?”
“Yep. Your dad won this hat at an auction. Michael Jackson wore it for a performance.”
Brett will be pissed. Ha! Welcome to my world. . .am I losing my mind?
All the divorce books said there were five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. For me, the denial phase rushed by. Currently, I walked in the destroy-my-ex’s-property stage.
Most women had a soul sister or an inner goddess. I had an undercover bitch stomping through the halls of my heart and gripping a sledgehammer.
My daughter grabbed my attention. “Our snowman is so lucky.”
“He is.” I returned to my frozen king and picked up the blow torch.
Rose bounced on one foot. Ice crunched under her pink boots. “I love when you use the chain saw. Are you going to use it now, Mommy?”
“I don’t need it anymore,” I said. “We’re done with all of our snow people.”
Weeks ago, my friend had delivered several blocks of ice. It was a tradition I’d started, when my first daughter was born. Each day in December, I carved a creature. This year had me off schedule. I’d only done a few—four elves, Santa, and two mermaids per Rose’s request.
I’d even created a tribute to the singers the world lost this year—Prince, David Bowie, and Leonard Cohen. I’d carved a massive guitar that sat upright in the snow. Their faces peeked out of the icy instrument’s body. Musical notes decorated the finger board. I’d used the girls’ old glitter ropes for the strings.
Thanks, universe, for taking away people that helped me get through the world’s craziness!
Today was Christmas Eve and I’d just finished the snowman, bringing my creature total count to eight.
“What’s the snowman’s name?” Rose asked.
A sound buzzed in my ear.
A word, I thought.
It was like someone with a deep voice whispered, “Remy.”
It was an eerie wisp of sound that might have been anything else like a distant whistle mimicking a human voice. Whatever it was, it put me on edge.
What was that? Did someone say something.
Rose stared at me. “Mommy, are you okay?”
I blinked. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
The deep voice came again, “Remy.”
Rose grinned. “What’s his name, Mommy?”
“I guess. Um. . .” I shivered. “I’m going to say that his name is Remy.”