That Night

It will always be THAT New Year's...

To celebrate the squeaky-clean beginning of yet another year, I'm going to regale you with the tale of our most memorable New Year's Eve.

It's a heart-stopper. 

Really . . .

We spent the evening, much like millions of other people, happily celebrating with friends.

Eating wonderful food that someone else prepared. (My personal favourite.)

Playing games: Charades. Word scramble. Card contests.

And visiting.

Sometime after midnight, we senior citizens called it a successful, wonderful night and left for our respective homes.

Husby and I were safely in bed by 2:00 AM.

All was well.

All was not to remain well.

Just as we were both deeply asleep, someone pounded on our front door.

Pounded.

In my half-awakened state, it sounded frantic to me.

Frightened.

Panicky.

“Grant! Something's wrong!” I screamed, leaping from the bed and switching on lights as I sped down the hall.

Mentally, as I ran, I tallied where my kids and grandkids were. Who had stayed in for the evening and who might still be out.

One family, I knew, had taken their little girls to a friends' party.

They could conceivably still be out.

What's wrong? What's wrong?

I reached the front door, heart racing and breathing heavily.

I peeked out.

No one.

I opened the door.

The front step was echoingly empty.

I stepped out and peered around.

No one.

The night was quiet.

The street deserted.

Nothing moved.

I came back inside and shut the door.

Then I peeked out again.

What on earth...?

By this time, my Husby was also up.

Doing a circuit of the windows and doors.

No one.

We looked at each other.

Did another circuit.

Still no one.

Puzzled, I headed back to bed while Husby locked up again.

He soon joined me and almost immediately dropped back to sleep.

I didn't.

For the next two hours, heart still racing, my mind spun through every terrible, horrible thing that could ever befall a family that (at the time) numbered twenty-five.

It was a long night.

We survived it.

None of the terrible, awful things happened.

I know, because this crazy mom/grandma phoned everyone as soon as it was light this morning.

Two facts remain.

1. Someone pounded on our door last night. The reasons remain obscure.
2. Somewhere in our bed is my Husby's liver, scared out of him when I screamed.

Happy New Year.

To my friends: I will be away for most of January. 

Picture me snorkeling or lying on the beach in St. Vincent. 

Cause that's where Husby is taking me.

Mmmmmm...

I will be back periodically, depending on connectivity, but poetry Monday (which I totally missed yesterday) will be suspended.

Happy January! See you in February!

I'll miss you!