Warm

*

Warm

5-minute Drill

30 July 2013

 Michael:

"Warm Cream of Wheat and hot chocolate..." We repeated the mantra to ourselves, bundled up in suede, lined jackets and hats (of course), "because 40% of your body heat leaves through your heads!" We shuffled through the brisk desert morning, ahead of the dawn, with a wagon in tow and a stroller leading the way, both filled to overflowing with Sunday morning papers. Mom had woken us at 3am; we had a routine. Each of us hoisted a stack of papers by its plastic strap, settled down on the living room floor, and began to fold silently, sometimes breaking out into a spontaneous race to see who could fold the fastest. Then we packed the papers tightly into their containers, and Mom watched us head out into the darkness. I was 10, Angie was seven. We were entrepreneurs, and Warm Cream of Wheat, and hot chocolate would be waiting.

Rachael:

She liked things warm. She wanted the warmth of love to envelope her and to hold her close, snuggled in like a baby against a mother's breast. She silently punished herself for everything she thought she lacked. Connections... Even over a pint at the pub, she could not bring herself to make eye contact with someone. A warm cup of tea was her salvation. That's when she dreamed of warm days in Ibiza as a child, family on holiday. Yes, a cup of tea. She would catch herself clinging to a cup like her very life depended upon it. Perhaps it did. She knew she would head out into the November drizzle when the cup of tea was gone. Alone, looking towards the warmth of nothing. the embrace of chilly cotton sheets. She paused, waiting... avoiding heading out.

***