Winter Miracle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story of a young woman trying to discover things inside herself and of the outside world.

Submitted: November 19, 2011

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Submitted: November 19, 2011



It’s December. The sun was out; beating on my face, yet a hint of cold strikes me every so often, as I stood outside. I envy the states that have non-bipolar weather; every season has a distinctive weather change. It’s unfortunate that Texas doesn’t.

Corpus Christi, beautiful city to some, but it’s like a prison to me. I never leave. If the world asked me to explore what surrounds me, I wouldn’t be able. I won’t know my calling. Perhaps, my meek personality has prohibited me from trying at all. I want to try, you know? But, my instincts tell me that if I do, I’ll fail automatically.

The Harbor Bridge separated the small city of Portland and the larger city of Corpus Christi. I look down over the railing at the blue-gray ocean water below me. Small ripples gently flow to and fro, and the wind is indecisive on which way it shall blow. Despite living near the ocean, I hated the beach. I didn’t favor the smell of it either. It wasn’t something I was ever interested in, anyway.

I became bored, so I turned and started walking towards my car. It was a long walk, but this allowed me time to clear my head of all my frustration. I came to the part of the bridge where it was a downward slope, but still, it was a long walk even from there to get entirely off the bridge.

I glanced up at the sky, and it was cloudy. In a way, it gave the surroundings a freezing look, but in reality, it was only about 65 degrees. I couldn’t deny it, I wanted change, and even the slightest change would be fine, starting with the weather. Is it too much to ask for cold weather during winter? I guess it is. I decided to breathe in deeply, only to be disappointed when the putrid smell of the ocean entered my nostrils. From then on, I took short, small breaths.

Finally, I reached the end of the bridge but kept walking. My car was parked in some hotel parking lot far away from here. By the time I reached my car, I was completely winded; out of breath and wanting water. I swiftly got into my car, turned it on, and blasted the air conditioning. While I drove, my mind pondered the thought of something out of the ordinary to occur, just this once. Impossible, I thought, just impossible, and I brushed away the thought. Suddenly, I looked to my right; beautiful houses entered my view as I drove down this street, known as Ocean Drive. Extravagant house after house, none of them disappoint. Just when you’ve thought you’ve seen the greatest one, another turns up and proves you wrong. It makes me feel so inferior to those who reside in these homes. Here I am, in a one-story, average looking house, while these people live like kings and queens. And when I think it isn’t fair, it is, because somehow they have worked hard enough to live this way. Moreover, even if I do work hard, it’ll never compare to what these people might have done. In my mind, I feel so tiny, while these houses filled with hard-working people must feel important and immense. Oh how I wish to feel that way…it is a change from feeling so insignificant.

At last I turn down on my street and pull up to my one-story, average house…Feeling even smaller, because even the houses next to us are larger than ours. Inside, I’m sure my mom is preparing dinner; pork chops and French fries, the meal of the middle class. Sometimes I want to hate myself, for thinking so badly of my life. I have a roof over my head, perfectly edible food, a mom who loves me for who I am, and still I complain about nothing happening in my bland life. I walk up to my front door and enter my home.

“Hey mom.” I quietly say, hoping she won’t respond.

“Where have you been?” She asked me suspiciously.

“I just drove around.”

There was silence then my mom broke it, “Dinner has been ready for ten minutes, I tried your cell-phone twice but got your voicemail both times.” She shook her head.

“My cell-phone is here, I didn’t take it with me.” I stated, as I put my thin jacket on the dining room chair.

“You didn’t have to wait for me to get back, you know,” I started to say, “I didn’t mean to burden you.”

She shook her head and sat down, “You aren’t a burden, I’d just like to know when you leave, and where you’re going, that’s all.”

I was almost right on what we were having; I was right about the French fries at least. French fries and H-E-B frozen chicken tenders. This meal was one we’d have usually three times a week. As we ate, there was only the sound of silence and crunching of chicken that filled my ears. When we both finished, mom grabbed our plates and put them into the sink.

“Dish-washer clean?” I asked her sweetly, because she seemed somewhat angry with me.

“It sure is.” She said nonchalantly.

Without another word being said, I opened the dishwasher and put away the clean dishes. Mom scurried into the living room and started watching one of her favorite shows: The Next Food Network Star. We both loved that show, but she usually waited for me. Seeing that she didn’t, it told me she really was upset with me.

“You’re not waiting for me?” I asked loudly, but she didn’t even acknowledge that I had spoken. She’d basically given me a signal that I wasn’t wanted around her, so I went to my room, shut the door and put on country music.

The clock read: 10:30 p.m. and my mom knocked on the door timidly.

“Yeah?” I asked enthusiastically, and she came in.

“I’m going to bed, you should too, school tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired really…”

“I don’t care, you still need rest, go to bed.”

“Fine.” I said rudely, and put my Ipod to charge in the dock and got under my covers.

There was silence, yet my mom stood staring at me in the doorway.

“What?” I asked daringly, still frustrated that even though I wasn’t tired, I was being forced to sleep.

“What are you always so angry about?” She suddenly asked me.
I sat up in my bed, bewildered by her question, “Me?”

She stared intently into my eyes, seriously concerned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom.”

She shook her head, and turned to exit my room, “Wait,” I started, “I don’t get it.”

She stops with her back facing me and I ask, “Weren’t you mad at me?”

“I don’t understand you, Carmen, you walk around like something is wrong, but you never make an effort to change it.”

I stared at the back of her head, stunned that she would even say that to me. At first, I was angry.

“You wouldn’t even understand. You of all people should though.”

“Carmen…I know you. I get that you’re tired. I get it that you want something to happen. Maybe it’s you that refuses it. Maybe you don’t see the opportunities staring you in the face from day to day because you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself before you take a look around you.”

“Even if I am feeling sorry for myself, it’s nothing you need to tell me! Nothing happens to me ever, I can’t change that!”

“You can do what you want to Carmen, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

Before I could counter, she shut off my light and closed the door behind her.

I wasn’t angry like I was before…I was still angry, just not with my mom, more with myself. After thinking about my actions around everyone, I’ve realized how childish I’ve been acting. Still, it’s undeniable that change is very much wanted and craved…it’s hard to imagine how I will reach it.

I fell asleep within minutes after these thoughts, but was awoken by my immense hunger. I turned to the clock, 4:00 a.m. I sighed aloud and unveiled my body from the covers. I slumped into the kitchen, still feeling very drowsy, and mostly very dizzy. I reached the kitchen at last. Something wasn’t right…I was cold. It wasn’t ever cold in our house…our heater was broken, but we’d never needed it before. I left the kitchen and went to where the temperature was revealed. I widened my eyes to the temperature, which read: 55 degrees. How on earth did it descend this much? There must be some mistake. Due to my insane tiredness, I thought I was simply delusional. Back into the kitchen, I carried myself with the last bit of energy I possessed and opened the fridge, then the cabinets, then to the fridge again, as though something that wasn’t there in the first place, might be there the second time I opened it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the window, foggy and covered with a whitish tint. I turned towards it, feeling the curiosity build up in my mind. I slowly approached the window with every part of me feeling interested in it. I took my hand up towards the window and rubbed the window in a circular motion, wiping away the foggy exterior. Jaw dropped, eyes widened, then followed by the most vibrant smile I’ve had.

“Mom!” I screamed, “Mom, come on! It happened! Mom!” I kept yelling, but I was too impatient to wait for her response. I ran out of the house like a child, and there in front of me, new fallen snow, lay carefully and meticulously on the ground. The shock was overwhelming. The tears slithered down my cheeks, and finally I could feel the freezing air cover my body. It coated me in a wintry jacket, combined with snow and ice. As I sniffed in the air, I no longer smelled the dirty beach water, or the rotten beach sand, no. It smelled fresh, new, perfect. The words Corpus Christi and Snow were never affiliated, and now look where they stand, hand in hand.

I felt brand new, cleansed, and free…a feeling overwhelmed me, sending me into a state of being in which I didn’t want to leave…If this was possible…anything was.

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