“Promises” by Jessi Wenger

Promise by Jessi Wenger

Promise is the key to hope Unlocking every door, The sweet caressing whisper which Reminds you what's secure.

The blinding shock of lightning which Makes low that which is tall, The note which breaks the silence with The morning bluebird call.

The branch providing nourishment And shade in cool of day, The branch that I grab hold of when My steps begin to sway.

It is the straight and narrow path Which guides me through the night, The flame, which in the darkness seems To burn with brighter light.

The coolest sip of water and The sight of what is pure, A rest which none can take away For I know what is sure!

Through the Frosted Window Panes By Sophia Berger

Henry put his rusted evergreen Chevrolet into park. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, bracing against the wind as he stepped out of the car, slipping a small cardboard box into his coat pocket. The snow dusted sign outside of the parking lot read “Parking for Visitors of Warm Winter’s Nursing Home.” The parking lot was entirely desolate aside from his car. The light snowfall crunched under his feet as he walked to a first-floor window. A little path was shoveled out for him specifically and he traveled up it until he stood face to face with the frosted window panes. He waited only a couple of seconds, blowing into his hands, before a masked nurse pushed a wheelchair up to the window. A tiny, delicate looking lady sat in it, a faded smile on her lips, causing her whole face to wrinkle up with happiness. “Joy, your husband is right outside the window now,” the nurse told her, leaning over. Joy reached her hand out, her palm placed against the chilled glass. Henry put his hand against hers and just held it there for a minute. He took his hand off the window to pull the small cardboard box out of his coat. He opened it and slipped a silver harmonica into his hands. His breath ascended in puffs around him as he put the cold metal to his lips. Out came the sweet and slightly twangy melody of Silent Night. The notes floated off like a cloud which filled the entirety of the empty air. Joy sat back, her eyes closed and her hands resting in her lap. The song blended into the crisp wind as Henry continued to move the harmonica back and forth across his lips. Next, he played The Christmas Waltz and Let it Snow. The notes once again filled up the vacant space, growing into a melodious flower and bringing smiles to so many more faces in the nursing home. Finally, Henry again laid his hand on the icy window blowing a kiss to his wife and nodding a ‘thank you’ to the nurse who smiled in return. Henry walked back to the car, the salt for the road feeling like little beads beneath the soles of his shoes. He turned on the ignition, putting his hands in front of the heat vents as they sputtered out warm air. As he traveled the mostly empty roads back to his house, Henry’s phone started to ring. He glanced at the flashing screen which read “Eleanor.” Swiping to answer it and he put it on speaker phone. “Hi, Ellie, sweetheart!” he called. “Hey, dad.” “How are you doing, honey?” “Just fine, loading the dishwasher. I saw that you called yesterday and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Her tone sounded tired and clipped. “Oh, just fine! I was just hoping to talk.” “Hi grandad!” a childlike voice chirped in the background. “Hi Hazel bear!” He answered back with a smile in his voice. “One sec, dad. Hazel, get down from that chair and stop touching Wyatt’s bib. Wyatt, no, no don’t put that in your mouth.” “Sounds a little crazy there, El.” “Well, you know, Hazel just has a ton of energy and Wyatt… it’s just hard until he gets a

little older. So what do you want, dad?” “Well I was thinking that maybe you and the kids could come here for a couple days before Christmas. Of course Levi could come too, unless he has work. I could take the kids off your hands for a few days and you could just relax - read, sleep, watch TV, maybe even go out for a night with Levi. I just know you haven’t gotten much time for yourself lately and I haven’t seen you guys in almost a year, so I thought it might be nice.” She sighed audibly, “Uh, I don’t know dad.” “Also, I know your mom would love to see you. She hasn’t really recovered from her bout with COVID and her mind is still a little foggy, but I’m sure a visit from you all would cheer her right up.” “I really don’t know dad. There’s a lot going on.” “Oh, well, okay. Is there anything I could do to make it easier for you?” “Not really. I just don’t think I can make it this year. With COVID and all… I mean it makes it harder to really travel.” “Oh. I understand, Ellie. I just thought it might be nice.” “Yeah, thanks dad but I really am doing just fine.” “Alright, honey. Well, that was it, unless there is anything else you want to talk about.” “Nope.” “Okie dokie then, I guess I’ll talk to you later. Call me if you need anything. I love you.” “Yep, love you too, dad.” The phone beeped off as Henry pulled into his empty driveway and walked into the chilled brick house. “Oh boy.” he whispered to himself as he walked in. “How come I let it get so messy around here, eh, Joy? I know you wouldn’t like that one bit. I’ll go turn up the temperature and put some of these records on the shelf instead of on the ground.” Henry whistled to himself while collecting the vinyl records into a pile. After putting a record of Johnny Cash on the player, he sank onto his musty leather recliner and into a deep sleep.

. . . Joy looked expectantly at the sunshine drenched windows the next day, awaiting her

visitor.

“Hmm.” the nurse muttered to herself and looked at her watch. “Henry’s a little late today it seems.” Joy’s face sagged as she waited with surprising impatience. The nurse sat there still, glancing at her watch sporadically and tapping her fingers on the wheelchair handles for several more minutes. “I guess he’s not coming today, sweetie, I’m sorry. He probably just forgot or had an appointment or something.” Joy shook her head. “No, no. My Henry comes every day. He hasn’t missed one yet and he won’t now.” The nurse nodded. “It’s probably a simple mistake, Lovey. I’m sure he’ll be here tomorrow.” Joy looked longingly at the window as the nurse pushed her towards the dining hall. . . . Eleanor was spoon feeding Wyatt as his little limbs flailed in the constraint of the high chair when her phone rang with an unknown caller. “Hello?” she asked, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder. “Hello, is this Eleanor Tilby?”

chair. “Yes, but Tilby is my maiden name. Who is this?” “This is Linda, calling from Warm Winters Nursing Home.” Eleanor froze, the phone nearly slipping from her shoulder. “Are you still there, dear?” the woman asked. “Yes… Is- is something wrong with my mom?” “No. You might want to sit down though, dear.” Eleanor put the blue plastic fork down and lowered herself into a nearby dining room

“As I’m sure you know, your father comes to visit every day outside your mother’s window.” She nodded as though the woman could see her. “Well, he hasn’t come for the last couple of days. Your mother was becoming quite unnerved about it and so were we all, your dad is such a darling man. Well, we sent a nurse over to check on him, and I’m afraid your father was, well, he was…” Eleanor’s breathing was stifled and her face became pale. “He was what?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking if she already knew the answer. (continued on page 11)

“Cabin in the Snow” by Jackson Keatts

“Whenever I go up to the mountains to snowboard, it is a comfort to see the welcome warmth of a cabin to provide me shelter from the snow and a place to reflect on God’s beauty and goodness." -Jackson

“I’m afraid that your father has passed on, dear. It seems it was peaceful though, in his sleep.” Hot tears stung her eyes and Wyatt began to shriek and flail. “I am so sorry, dear.” She did not respond. “I’m sure this is very difficult to process so I will let you go and you can call us whenever you are ready to talk or ask questions.” “Thank you.” was all she managed to force out. She dropped the phone on the table, staring aimlessly out the window at the snow covered landscape.

. . . Joy sat in her wheelchair in her two-room apartment. The little gas fireplace was roaring and a pile of yarn and untouched knitting needles sat in her lap. Her eyes shifted around the enclosure, resting on pictures of her and her family on the bookshelf. Her wedding, baby pictures of Ellie, Ellie and Levi’s wedding, Hazel’s first birthday, Henry cuddling the newborn Wyatt, all of the family together - and her, all alone in this room. It had been about a week since Henry’s passing and she refused to talk to anyone. No more music pulled at the hopeful strings of her heart. As she sat like a forgotten record in an antique shop, flowing notes started to drift to her ears. Her face lifted in confusion and happiness. I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas. She craned her neck to look out the window of the next room. A nurse, hearing the melody as well, entered the room with a smile on her lips. “I think someone is here to see you, Joy.” Joy stared in disbelief. It was not the drawn-out resonant notes of a harmonica, but a chorus of voices. Through the frosted panes of glass, she could see, bundled up in winter coats with knitted hats on their heads, Ellie, with Wyatt on her hip, Levi, with his arm wrapped around Ellie’s waist and holding little Hazel’s hand, whose voice shot up like a gleeful rocket. A tear rolled down Joy’s cheek as she placed her palm against the glass, four other hands coming to meet hers. Joy heard Ellie’s muffled voice through the window. “I’m sorry, mom,” Ellie said, the edges of her voice tinged with tears, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, wasn’t there for dad…” Her voice trailed off, leaving the air empty again. “I know, honey.” Joy said, her face close to the window, “I know and I understand.” A sorrowful smile spread across her face as she reached back, stretching her arm to the bookshelf and bringing forward the picture of all of the family crowded in front of a museum. Joy pointed to the picture which Ellie strained to see. “This is all your daddy wanted, Ellie, for us all to be together, and now we are. I know that he would be so glad to bring us together again.” Ellie nodded, her head pressed against the window. At that moment, it was almost as if the separating window were not there, like their hearts met in the middle, filled with a love that sprung from the grief, a love that bound them together until Joy met Henry again.