Picture 2
Aleea Davidson’s Picture Choice: Both
Title: Little Joys
A/N Taking a short break from Wither this week. Mara and Glen will return next time. Thank you to those who may be reading. I'm humbled any of you would take the time to read my words.
According to the calendar hanging on her kitchen wall it was supposed to be the first day of spring. As the soles of her boots broke through the icy crust that covered layers of snow caked three inches thick in her driveway, Kate thought Mother Nature had a warped sense of humour.
Pulling her hood up against a wind that felt like it had teeth hungry for nips of her skin, she shuffled her way to her car, mindful of the ever-present ball of weight settled like a warm lump of coal in her midsection. At seven months, the waddle her friends had promised would affect her every movement had set in with a vengeance. At eight months, Kate felt she had the awkward duck walking perfected, but there was no such thing as perfection when navigating the treacherous feet of ground between her and the car only days away from her due date. Especially considering she was feeling as big as a house.
She let out a sigh when she reached the vehicle without slipping, congratulating herself silently. The baby she carried was precious. He would've been precious no matter what twists and turns life had in store, but the fact he was all she had left of her husband Tom, made him infinitely more so.
Kate allowed herself a second of sadness as she opened the car door, then pushed the emotion away. Bending carefully, she grabbed the ice-scraper and moved to attack the thin layer of frost on her windshield. Baby Thomas stirred and delivered a solid little kick to her ribs, as if to say hurry up, mom. It made her smile even as she winced.
She was on the road only moments later, driving with caution, the memory of Tom's voice in her mind reminding her to go easy with the brakes in the slippery conditions. She wished he was here, the pain of his loss still sharp, yet found herself smiling past the emptiness solely because of her destination.
It was time to choose a puppy from the litter of adorable babies born to her friend Joan's Golden Lab, Molly. Something her and Tom had decided to do after learning they were expecting their first child. In the weeks since his death, Kate's determination to carry through with the idea never waned. Tom had been right. Every child should have a dog. The idea this puppy would grow and flourish alongside her son, be his companion and guardian, felt more important than ever with Tom gone. Her son would grow up without a father, but she was determined he wouldn't go through it without every ounce of love and happiness she could provide.
As she parked the car and carefully made her way to the front door of Joan's house, the sound of whimpering and tiny barks squeaked through the door. She took a moment to take a deep breath, then cradled her baby bump through her thick coat. Tears prickled behind her closed eyelids as she whispered to her son. "Do you hear that, Thomas? Daddy can't be here with us, but right behind this door, is his present to you so you won't alone."
As if he heard and understood, her little boy stirred within her once more, gentler this time, and Kate wiped away her tears and raised her hand to knock.
Life goes on, she thought, and little joys were the most amazing things.
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Aleea lives in her imagination most of the time. It's an interesting place to be... Occasionally she can be coaxed out to chat on Twitter, though she finds it akin to torture to stick to that absurd 140 character limit. (@Aleeab4u)
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