Tatianah W

Timing?

WI, 1963 My eyes averted from the mess and stack of hay bales to the shovel at the far corner of the barn. The weather was a light hymn of ice and rain as the fog settled around the windows, heat dissipating from my body but making its way to the small pieces of glass panels built into the walls. If I had forgotten something it was always a little more, piece by piece, left in this room. I couldn’t exactly settle on any one thought, though Abby was always, just slightly, in the forefront of my mind. If I had to offer myself a word of advice, I’d make sure to note I’d have just enough time to take Abigail to the seasonal Mill’s Christmas Market in town tomorrow. It was always necessary for me to think of every goal set in my day. My flannel wasn’t offering much heat in this Wisconsin snow, but I didn’t think I’d take too much time.