"Look at Me When I'm Talking to You!"
I saw the moon, Mom. Outside my cold kitchen window, at five a.m. No need to turn the light on. First I heard the damn thing, not a gentle owl-sound in the dark. It roared through the icy stillness. Sliced through razor-sharp. Cut deep to the heart of things beneath the frozen ground. “Look at me when I’m talking at you!” My fingertips burned, my toes near numb. My whole body shivered, so I closed my arms tightly around my chest. Not to warm myself, Mom. But to keep the simple truth from thawing. ‘You miss her!” Our obnoxious moon bellowed. Its voice bounded through the snowdrifts. Through my cold window pane, to my icy obstructed heart. Our mammoth moon thawed my frozen, stubborn tears. The warmth from them wasn’t as scary as I’d imagined. The full moon lingered, so I slowly turned away from my window, to start my day, A whisper stopped me, Covered my whole being with a blanket so soft and warm....... . “I miss you, too, Marg.” St. Ignace Moran Bay in Winter...