Sleeping with Ice

The crackling fire was calm compared to the winter ice whistling against the windows. Eyes drooping, Lola watched the white, battery-powered Christmas lights of a small, cheap convenience store tree twinkle like stars. She breathed in the light scent of warmth and sweetness that filled her relaxed body.

God, when had the floor become so comfortable?

Engulfed in blankets and wearing three sweaters under a jacket that hadn't been taken off since yesterday morning when the power went out, Lola was cocooned. The silence that followed the home being forcibly unwired of its constant stream of electricity—that underlying vibration of the world gone, unnoticed until its absence. Even when the house held a mother and two sisters, interchangeably bored and entertained by the minute, this stillness stayed.

The fire cracked and popped, scratching an itch in a deep part of her brain. Lola snuggled herself deeper into her little cozy sanctuary. No, not even the howls—carrying a warning of danger, to stay inside and not trek forth into the freeze—could bother her. In fact, the sounds of the winter storm played a very specific part, an actor of sorts, in this newfound lullaby.

The fire popped again, and Lola heard, "Are you awake?"

Lola stayed quiet.

"Hey, psst," her sister whispered, accompanied by a light nudge on her back. Lola could imagine her sister on the couch behind her, stretching her foot out, covered in an ugly purple flowery sock. "Are you awake?" Another nudge, the whisper a bit louder.

No, Lola wasn't asleep, but with such perfect conditions for the dream world, there was no good reason to answer. So, again, she stayed silent, letting only the twinkling lights seep through the slits of her eyes. Holding onto the softness of her temporary bed, unmoving, too afraid to disturb its perfection.

"She's obviously asleep! What do you want?" her eldest sister whispered harshly from the recliner

"To see if she is asleep!"

"Why?"

"Cause."

The whispers paused. Just a mere moment of that lullaby again.

Her eldest sister broke the silence. "You are so annoying."

There was another nudge, this time closer to her head. Thank goodness for the blanket shield. "Lola, are you aslee—"

The recliner squeaked, and her older sister hissed. "Oh my God. Shut up."

"Mind your business. Go back to your smut book."

Lola tried to stifle a laugh.

The whispers were bordering on not being whispers anymore. As annoying as it was, her smile grew at their bickering, thankfully hidden beneath one of the three blankets on top of her.

"I can't with you being so loud!"

"I'm literally whispering!"

"Your whispering has to be the most annoying whispering I have ever heard."

The floor started to shake. Footsteps approaching from the kitchen. Lola's body slightly moving with the rhythm like mini waves.

"Again, mind your business."

"Mind yours!"

The fire crackled as Lola's mother entered the room. "Why are you arguing? Your sister is trying to sleep," her mom whispered—sort of.

Her eldest sister said, "Don't look at me. She's the one trying to wake her up."

"No! I’m trying to see if she’s actually asleep."

"Same freaking thing!"

Lola's mother sighed, her exhale carrying the weight of annoyance that comes with no power, freezing temperatures, and three clashing personalities stuck in the same space. If only her mom could do as she did—bundle up and let time slip away. Just for now, at least since there wasn't much else to do.

"Y'all want hot chocolate?" Her mother asked them.

There was a silence—quick but meaningful—a white flag of sorts, and Lola had to hold her breath not to laugh again.

"With marshmallows, please," her older sister requested.

"Put more in mine. Thanks, Mom!" her younger one said with a grin that could be heard. "...Do we tell Lola?"

"No, let her sleep. There will be more when she wakes up," their mother replied, her footsteps once again causing the floorboards to shake as she left.

It was quiet again, the perfect moments of sleepy pleasure, only interrupted by the sipping of hot chocolate. The warm scent stronger, wrapping around them like another layer, lulling everyone into a deeper state of rest. It seemed her family was also part of this, keeping her company, witnesses to Lola's soon to be memory. Letting light laughter be written on the script.

The fire crackled, and Lola’s mind drifted into a tangle of random images and fleeting thoughts, succumbing to the tranquility that only a winter night like this could bring. Once her family slumbered, she could only hope they would feel this night as she did, because it seemed they were all actors in this shared moment—a small cast in the play of a night that would only exist once, maybe twice in winters to come. Hopefully, the lullaby ends with the sun rising over the snow, the remembering's of sweet dreams, and empty cups of hot chocolate.