Bea

Having finished her final shift at the print shop, Bea raced to the photographers for the photo shoot. Upon arriving, she donned her “evil fairy” costume, slapped on her false eyelashes, and covered her nose and chin with silver glitter.

“Let’s give them some cleavage, Bea!” the photographer wined. “The Dads need a reason to see the show.” Despite a heated discussion about the photographer’s obnoxious request, two more rolls of film were snapped.

Traffic on the way home was a nightmare. Bea knew this time of the night was the worst, but she wanted to get home in time to help Joy with her homework and make a decent dinner. But Bea sat pressed into her little 12-year-old hatchback as rain poured out of the sky and made all the red brake lights in front of her look unwilling to budge. It looked more like a game of bumper cars. Traffic was usually bad, but because it was the week before Christmas, it was worse. Working extra shifts at the print shop and doing the Children’s Theater Production helped her pay the bills, but the stress and scheduling hardly seemed worth it. As she sat waiting for the cars to move, Bea felt defeated. Bea was tired, and these days, it showed on her small 48-year-old face.

The thirty-minute drive became 90 minutes. Fortune smiled on her when she found some old French fries in a wadded-up wrapper on the passenger seat. Bea hadn’t had time to eat all day, and she thought nothing of wolfing down the cold, stiff fries.

Bea stopped at the neighbors across the hall to thank them for checking in on Joy, then staggered wearily into her apartment. Bea found Joy eating an apple sitting in front of the TV.

“Hey, Honey, how’s the homework coming along?”

“Gawd, Mom! Lighten up. I’ve almost finished my book report. There’s no math tonight, so I’ll be fine.” Joy rolled her eyes, but then surprised Bea with a hug. “I’m glad you're home.”

After dinner, the rest of the evening was spent folding laundry and cleaning the cat box, along with the added fun of unloading the dishwasher. It was Joy’s job, but tonight, Bea was in no mood to remind her.

When Bea pulled out the lint trap from the dryer, she was shocked to see how much glitter had accumulated. Glitter must be like a flesh-eating virus because it was everywhere, she thought to herself. Yesterday, she saw glitter on the cat’s furry head. Bea was relieved Joy didn’t have math homework. Now that Joy was in 7th grade, Bea had trouble doing the math. It wasn’t something she could hide or fake, so they usually had to call Joy’s dad for help. Math was one of those skills Bea was unable to master. Although she had a fine arts degree, she found it almost impossible to do simple math.

Bea checked Joy’s book report and also saw how organized her papers and notebooks were. She read all that Joy had written about her favorite book, To Kill a Mockingbird. It gave her hope. Then, as she went to get into her pajamas, she realized she had not taken off her coat. All this time wandering around and doing stuff, and she still had her coat on. If she hadn’t been so tired, she might have found it funny.

Bea shut the bathroom door, sat on the toilet seat, and started to cry. She cried from fatigue more than sadness.

“Mom? You alright?”

Bea stood up and wiped her eyes. “I’m fine, honey. I’ll be out in a minute.” She put on her sweats and old tee shirt, grabbed her clothes, and came out of the bathroom with the look on her face she had worked hard to achieve. It was the “I’m just fine face.” From the look on Joy’s face, Joy wasn’t buying it. Joy followed her into the bedroom.

“Mom?” long pause. “Do you think they’ll have school tomorrow?”

“I can’t imagine why not. If it’s the weather you are worried about, I haven’t checked the news lately, but it’s Portland. We seldom get snow. Sorry, honey.”

Joy looked disappointed. She kissed Bea goodnight, then Bea finally crawled under the covers and turned on her book light. Two pages into the third chapter, Bea was asleep.

“Mom!!” Bea awoke with a start. Somewhat disoriented, she first noticed the flashes and was alarmed. Her book was on the floor, and she still had her reading glasses on. She had no idea what time it was or what was happening.

“Mom, look! It’s snowing. It’s really snowing!” Joy was standing at the bedroom window, taking pictures with her phone using the flash. The bright light bounced off the window glass and filled the dark bedroom.

Bea pulled on her old chenille bathrobe and stood with Joy at the window. Looking out from the second floor onto the rooftops of the parking structures and covered carports. She could see a definite dusting of white, fluffy, clean snow over everything. It was beautiful.

“It looks like sparkly powdered sugar. Oh, Mama, it’s so pretty. See? I knew it was going to snow. I bet they will close the schools; I mean, I bet the buses won’t be able to drive in this, especially if there’s ice.” Joy could not contain her excitement.

“When I was a little girl growing up in Detroit, it snowed all winter long. One time, your grandpa made us an ice-skating rink in the back yard. My sister and I skated all winter. It was magical, but I can’t remember it ever being this pretty.” Bea put her arm around Joy’s small shoulders and drew her close. Joy put her head on Bea and made a deep sigh.

The two stood watching the snow steadily but gently fall, creating the unique silence that only snow can bring. With her daughter snuggled close, Bea felt at peace. For a long, memorable ten minutes, mother and daughter were held close within the icy breath of God.