When I was a girl

The snow crunched loudly beneath her boots as she carefully made her way up the wintry driveway. She adjusted her hat that had begun its decent down her forehead to cover her eyes. It was her Dads and far too big for any sensible purposes, but it was her favorite shade of blue and it smelled of his aftershave. The long driveway curved and opened up again to reveal an expansive brownstone house with gaping windows and a porch that jutted out from the back to overlook the frozen river and its protective rows of pine trees.

Upon arriving at the front door, she slipped her mitten off and rapped her knuckles against the hard oak—four times—to be sure it was heard. She stepped back and waited excitedly. The door opened and a girl her age stood on the inside with two mugs of steaming hot cocoa.

“Hey” Brianna greeted her and let her into the foyer onto a large floor rug spread wide over the shiny oak floor. She removed her boots and set them to the side where they could drip free of their snowy buildup. She slipped her feet into the extra pair of slippers Brianna always had sitting by the door for her.

“Here,” Brianna shoved the mug into her hands as soon as she entered the living room. “I put the tiny marshmallows in that you like so much.” She beamed at her friend, waiting for the approval she knew would come.

“Ooh—thanks!” She took a sip of the liquid and immediately spit it back into the mug, her face contorting in pain. “Hot” She said sheepishly, looking over the mug at Brianna. Both girls giggled and moved down the hallway toward Brianna’s bedroom. She watched Brianna’s long ponytail swishing against her back as she walked; the length almost to her waistline. Jealously, she reached up and felt her own fine blonde hair landing abruptly on her neck. She pulled her eyes from Brianna’s back and glanced around to admire the dark cavernous hallways. Her own house was filed with the natural daylight pouring in from their many windows, but Brianna’s house was one of intrigue and secrets held only in the dark. Brianna’s parents suffered from headaches and did not allow the heavy drapes covering the windows to be pulled back. The kitchen had one small window overlooking the river that remained uncovered; a single beam of sunshine lit up the center of the tiled floor. She would often choose this spot to stand in while they prepared snacks for their sleepovers and movies.

It was bizarre the jealousy she felt over the splendor and mystery of Brianna’s house and yet, in the moment when she had a chance to dwell in it-—she chose to stand in the one spot that reminded her of home.

**