The Winter Soltice

She didn't know what, but something always drew Emily back to the pond. At least once a week she found herself there, circling the water. Now that winter was taking hold, her visits were more and more frequent. Sometimes she'd bring a book, thinking she'd sit on the rickety, wooden bench and lose herself in some reading. But she never did. Instead she'd realize she'd spent the last hour staring into the depths below the lapping water of the pond.

This time the pond was frozen over with at least six inches of ice. She walked to the edge of the water, the crisp snow crunching beneath her booted feet. A cold breeze blew her hair across her face and Emily shivered in spite of the coat, hat, and gloves she wore. Geese flew overhead, honking hello's to each other. She breathed deeply and inhaled the scent of pine mingled with frozen air. She wondered if other people knew the distinct smell the air had when it was cold. Emily did, and she loved it. Winter had always been her favorite. From snow angels to ice skating to silver sunlight she relished every moment of the season.

Until last year, that is. Her baby, not due until January, had come on December 21st, the winter solstice. Only he was stillborn. The cord had been wrapped around his tender neck. She'd held his lifeless body in her arms, counted his toes and fingers over and over, tears streaming down her cheeks. She'd kissed his bitty hands and his tiny nose and his bald head until the nurses told her it was time. She sobbed angrily into her husband's arms as they took her son away.

The next time she saw him was at the funeral home. He wore a tiny tuxedo. The only family picture they had was with Emily, her husband, and her son in his casket. No smiles, no signs of the usual happiness after the birth of a new baby.

During her pregnancy, Emily often dreamed of the day she would hold her child in her arms. She’d imagined the way he’d feel, squirming in her arms, just as she could feel the way he kicked inside of her. Her husband’s eyes would light up when she placed his hand just above where the baby kicked. At night she’d lay awake as he did somersaults in her stomach. She hadn’t imagined that one day would come when she would no longer feel him moving inside her stomach. She hadn’t imagined the pain that would follow and their panicked rush to the hospital.

Emily tore her eyes from the frozen water and looked up the hill that rose across the pond. She'd lied to herself. She knew what drew her to the pond so frequently. It was the closest she could come to that hill--and the grave that held her son at the top of it. She hadn't entered the cemetery since they'd buried her son there. Today was different. It was the winter solstice--exactly one year since he'd been born and exactly one hear since he had died.

She forced her feet forward, for herself as much as her son. It’s time, she told herself. She needed to visit him, if only for a moment. It was a short walk until she stood before his gravestone. Emily fell to her knees, the cold immediately seeping through her jeans; she hardly noticed. She reached a gloved hand out and brushed away a bit of snow until she saw his name: Derek Everette Smith.

Time stood still and she was frozen in that spot, staring down at his name. Before she knew it an hour had passed as she stayed with her son. Tears streamed down her cheeks once more, but Emily was awakened from her reverie by a cheerful chirping. Her eyes followed the sound to the branch of a snow flecked maple. There she saw a blue jay, his beautiful crest cocked for the world to see. She stood, her eyes on the bird. For the first time in many months Emily found herself smiling, for if a blue jay could still find joy in the middle of winter, she thought, maybe she could too. The solstice would always be a sad memory, but perhaps she could find peace in it. After all, it was after the solstice that the nights grew short again.