In the Quiet of a Winter Night

A plow lumbered down the road, breaking the silence of the late winter evening. Clearing the last of the slush and spraying salt behind it in preparation for the coming snowstorm. Outside Janis's kitchen window, the scene was gray and bleak-- bare trees and dirty sludge. A soggy pizza box, probably an escapee from a neighbor's recycling bin, lay in her tree lawn under a dim streetlight. Sudden frantic scratching at the side door let her know that Rufus their dog was done doing his business and had no wish to stay outside in the drab winter night any longer.

The little Yorkshire Terrier shook himself once inside, then trotted over to his bowl where he knew dinner waited.

Janis poured herself a cup of coffee and took it over to the small table in her tidy kitchen. A neat stack of holiday cards sat next to a book of stamps and a list of names and addresses. Her husband Burt was working late, leaving her the night to herself and her thoughts. The perfect time for filling out Christmas cards. Their daughter was all grown now, living several states away, working on building a family of her own. She was due to deliver her first baby in a few weeks.

It was just her and Burt now in the house.

Rufus let out a small belch, having finished his dinner with great gusto.

"Well, and there's Rufus too," Janis added out loud. The dog busied himself by searching the floor around his bowl for stray food, then wandered over to the far corner of the kitchen. He circled his bed several times, then plopped down with a surprisingly loud sigh for such a little dog.

Janis sat down in the straight back chair at the table and began with her Christmas card list. The light patter of rain started on the kitchen roof. The weather man on the local news had warned of a snowstorm of "Biblical proportions" heading their way. But first, freezing rain. Burt had warned her he'd be late, busy towing people out of ditches who had forgotten how to drive in this weather.

"Happens every year, honey. A summer of sunny and seventy degrees and people forget how to drive. I might be out most of the night. Don't even bother keeping any supper warm for me. I'll get something at the truck stop on the interstate if I get hungry." And with a peck on the cheek, he was gone for the night.

Four addresses down the list and Janis stopped. Aunt Betty. She'd passed away this September in her sleep. Eighty-four wasn't tragically young to die. But it wasn't really that old either, after all? Janis slowly drew a pen mark through her name and address to remind her to remove her from the list. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd had to update her card list because of a death.

Her cell phone began ringing, and Janis froze. Calls this late at night seldom brought good news.

"I promised Tammy that I'd call you as soon as I could." Her sons-in-law voice, usually deep and confident, sounded startlingly boyish and scared. "I just took her into the hospital. Her blood pressure was spiking, and she was bleeding a little."

There was a long pause, and Janis realized that he was waiting for her to say something. Something to reassure him.

"She's not due for weeks. And she was so scared," he added quietly.

A heavy silence settled in as she thought of what to say. Some words of comfort. On the roof above, Janis could hear that the patter of rain had escalated to a drumming sound. Rufus whined over in his dog bed, disturbed by the sudden interruption of his slumber.

Then Janis found the right words. They began flowing from her. She reassured the frightened father-to-be with reminders of how competent their doctor was. How advanced medicine was these days. How strong Tammy was. By the end of their phone conversation the young man's voice sounded steadier. He promised to call with an update soon.

"And now we wait for news," Janis declared to Rufus once she'd ended the call and slowly sat her phone down. The ringing had startled the little dog who was sitting up now, head cocked to the side, studying her.

"We wait and finish our Christmas cards," she added as she picked back up her list of family and friends. Since her daughter lived several states away, there would be no late-night run to the hospital in treacherous weather.

Just waiting.

She continued through her list, carefully using her best penmanship on each card. The cousins who'd moved to Wisconsin. Her close childhood friend a few towns over that she shamefully did not meet up with often enough. A dozen families in town who were close friends.

Then she reached another name to be crossed off her list. Mrs. Shmitz, who'd lived across from her childhood home. Janis smiled at the memory of her cheerful face, surprisedly old looking even that many years ago. And the homemade gingerbread cookies she had brought over every December in a tin box. She'd been a spry old lady for as long as Janis could remember and had maintained a sharp mind until the last.

Janis caught herself sniffling and swiped at a tear trickling down her cheek. Silly to be crying over a neighbor that had lived a long and happy life.

It had been tough sending that first Christmas card to only her father after her mother had passed. Then several years later, removing him from the list as well. But to get so emotional over an old neighbor? That seemed strange.

The adults from my childhood. They are all gone now. Or at least most of them. That was why.

Janis moved on to the next names on the list, trying her best to not look at the clock. How long had it been since the frantic phone call? Was no news truly good news?

Janis had already bought her unborn grandson more than enough outfits since Tammy had informed them the ultrasound showed a healthy developing boy. Until then Janis had superstitiously refrained from buying clothes for the baby. Just in case. It was that same strange feeling that had her insist on not setting up the nursery until after Tammy had been born.

"It's not bad luck to set up the nursery before the baby's born," Burt had insisted all those years ago. But she'd stood firm on it. The baby would sleep by the bed in a bassinet for a while anyways. And her husband, the smart man that he was, had chosen to not force the issue with his pregnant wife.

Both Janis and Burt had been thrilled with the news of a future grandchild.

"You're spoiling that boy before he's even born," Burt had teased her when she came home from the mall last week, loaded down with several shopping bags.

"Pottery Barn Kids?" he'd asked with one raised eyebrow. "Looks like I'm going to be assembling a cradle," he added with a sigh after inspecting her most recent purchases. He grumbled a bit that night when he first got out his tools and sat to work, but there was no hiding the pride on his face when he called her in from the kitchen to see the newly assembled furniture.

Burt also happened to stumble across a great price on a vintage junior baseball glove while he was out doing errands. "Would have been foolish to pass such a good deal by," he had sheepishly assured her. Janis smiled at the memory as she turned back to her list.

Once she'd put the last stamp on the last card, she gave herself permission to glance at the clock. It had been two hours.

A light snoring came from the dog bed, and Janis noticed that the driving rain sounds had stopped. She got up from the table to refill her coffee cup and stood by the window. Large snowflakes had replaced the icy rain. They gently floating down, covering the dreary scene outside her window with a fresh coat of snow.

Her phone beeped, notifying her of a message. She opened it and the screen filled with a smiling, but tired looking Tammy in a hospital gown. In her arms, a red newborn wrapped in a blanket and sporting a tiny cap.

"Mother and baby Jonathan doing well. A little early, but healthy," the caption read. Janis looked up from the phone and back out the window. The solitary streetlight cast a soft halo of light through the gentle snowfall. The pizza box and the dirty roadside were now hidden under a pristine blanket of white.

Janis needed to call Burt and tell him the good news. And she would finally get to add a name to her Christmas list.