To celebrate the squeaky-clean beginning of yet another year, I'm going to regale you with the tale of our New Year's Eve of a few year's past . . .
It's a heart-stopper.
Really . . .
We had 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 shortly 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 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, 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 then numbered twenty-five.
It was a long night.
We survived it.
I mention it because I know you were worried.
None of the terrible, awful things happened.
And I know that, because this crazy mom/grandma phoned everyone as soon as it was light the next morning.
Two facts remain.
- Someone pounded on our door that night. The reasons remain obscure.
- Somewhere in our bed remains my heart, scared out of me the moment someone did said pounding.
Happy New Year.
