At 5 AM on a winter morning, I was whistling my way to the barn to tend to our critters when I slipped and fell into an ice puddle. Soaked to the skin and freezing, I slammed through the chores, collected eggs, milked the goat, then shivered to the back porch where I deposited my muddy, wet clothing into the wash machine.
Despite a hot shower, I could not get warm. I turned into a Popsicle—although in my case a ‘Momsicle.’ I put my nightgown on, turned the electric blanket to ‘cremate,’ and crawled in.
Circulation had barely returned when my neighbor knocked at the door. I was tempted to pull the covers over my head and pretend I didn’t hear her. She looked so forlorn I threw on my robe and answered the door.
Taking note of my nightclothes, she said, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“It’s okay” I said, half-lying through my chattering teeth.
Seated at my kitchen table, we laughed about my baptism into the Polar Bear Club, made coffee, and baked a sheet of cookies—also frozen.
Warm cookies and hot coffee loosened her tongue. She poured out her heart.
Coming! Part 2 ! Watch for it!