The Lake That Never Thawed

The smell of coffee fills the small kitchen and it's quiet except for the sound of crackling bacon. Susan is holding an empty coffee cup as she stands over the sink and looks out the small window at the frozen lake behind her home. It is warm inside, but she has a heavy blanket wrapped tightly around her like armor protecting her from the world.

The scene isn't unfamiliar to the old house. In fact, for the last 100 days, Susan has started every single day almost the exact same way. The routine began with starting the coffee pot. Then she would lay a few strips of bacon in the pan, toast bread, and look out the window until the smell of her food burning snapped her out of whatever daydream she was in that day.

She sets the cup on the counter and cradles her swollen stomach as she reminisces about the last day she saw Andrew. She stood in this exact spot as he wrapped his arms around her. When she finally had let him go, he pointed out the window and said "I'll be home before the lake thaws."

A small smile spread across her face at the thought of him coming home. He hadn't even left yet, but she'd already missed him. It was the first time she smiled since they found out about his sudden deployment.

"I hope so," she had said, gently touching his cheeks with her small hands. "I'm worried you won't be back in time."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said and kissed her nose, then ducked down to kiss her belly before he walked out the door,

That was 100 days ago, back in November. The lake had frozen over during the first blizzard of the year. Living in Upper Michigan this was a late start to their winter, but once it arrived it was one of the worst many people could remember.

The lake hadn't thawed yet. Instead, somehow it seemed to freeze more each day since he left.

Her eyes slowly close as she rubs her stomach and two tiny feet rub back from the inside, a reminder that she is not alone.

They only expected him to be gone three months. It was supposed to be a short deployment, but it would've meant he was home to meet his daughter. If all had gone as planned, he would have even been back before the lake thawed.

Susan knows nothing ever goes as planned, yet still looks out to check on the frozen lake multiple times each day.

She turns the stove off and moves the bacon to a nearby plate. Her eyes are distant and trance-like as she continues to relive memories while preparing her breakfast.

A few weeks before he left, they were sitting on the nursery floor eating pizza after spending the whole day painting it baby blue. This, of course, was just one day before they learned they were actually having a girl. They had talked about the child's future and tried to guess what features it would get from each of them.

"Well you're beautiful so I hope this child looks exactly like you," he told her.

She had laughed and agreed that a mini-me would be pretty cool, but now she hopes for a mini-him. Every night she prays before bed that the child looks like Andrew.

Memories wash over her, just as they do every morning when she starts her routine. Memories of having two people to cook breakfast for. Memories of holding hands, stealing kisses, the last time he returned from deployment.

His army uniform was so clean when he got off the plane. She wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't that. He wrapped her in a tight hug against his muscular body and a familiar feeling of safety spread through her that she had missed for months.

Now she thinks back to that memory and tries to remember the feeling. She tries to remember every single detail. The way he smelled, how his eyes lit up when they saw each other, his natural scent that filled her nostrils.

Then her brain moves onto their wedding night, as it always does. He had insisted on carrying her over the threshold of their apartment, despite them living together there for more than a year already.

They cuddled and giggled together, talking about how their drunk family was acting during the reception. He fell asleep before she did and she spent an hour watching him toss and turn.

Andrew was flawless to her, but he would protest that if he heard her say it. From his long, thick eyelashes to his short black hair and even the little beauty mark under his eye; he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. It's now been three years since their wedding night and she still couldn't believe he wanted to marry her.

He once told her he knew she was the one on their first date, but Susan wasn't sure if she believed that.

She was so nervous and dorky the day he picked her up from her parents' house. It was before she was introduced to contact lenses and thick black frames outlined her hazel eyes. Her mom had helped style her and she wore an orange and brown sweater vest over a long-sleeve white shirt. The look made her cringe when she remembered it, but Andrew swore she looked gorgeous.

He was such a gentleman and showed up with flowers that first night. White roses, which quickly became her favorite flowers.

They had later agreed to a weekly date night every Thursday when he was home and every Thursday he would have a bouquet of white roses waiting for her when she got home from work.

Now she looks at the empty vase sitting alone next to her stove. Once full of the weekly reminder he loved her, but now empty and untouched for months.

Susan was also once full of love. Love for Andrew, love for the world, love for their future together. Now she sits alone at her kitchen table drinking warm coffee and realizing that she too is empty and untouched for months.

Empty and alone, she thinks.

Then those two feet start kicking again, forcing her to smile. She places her hands over her stomach, enjoying the feeling until the baby seems to get comfortable and stops moving.

Susan sighs and stands up when the sensation ends. She pours her drink down the sink and, for the first time in 100 days, closes the blinds over the small window. Acceptance is never easy, but she knew the lake would never thaw.