Author: Michelle H.
Summary: Donna muses
Spoilers: None, really
Archive: Sure, but ask me first
Stuff: Thanks, as always, to Laurel, who is a blessing
to work with,
never mind the time zone differences and all.
Story of my Life is a song by Social Distortion
Let's Get it On is a song by Marvin Gaye.
Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses and Even Better Than
the Real Thing
are songs by U2.
Author's note: This is a stand alone story, not
anything else I've written. Just a little fluff.
At night I sleep and dream of snowflakes so big they
almost blanket your entire palm, for the split second before they melt
into your mitten and leave a tiny puddle. It's almost like your
hand is a tiny little landscape and that one flake is like one tiny
I miss Wisconsin sometimes.
I miss home. I miss snowstorms that seem to paralyze
the entire world; except for the winged ones and the woodland
creatures that come out when the world is still and silent and white.
At night I dream of making snow angels and baking
cookies and drinking tea in a rocking chair. Life moves in slow
motion in my dreams.
Life moves in slow motion in Wisconsin.
I miss trees, too. Big ancient evergreens that line
the highways and stood sentry in the backyard I grew up in. I used to
believe that they protected my family and me while we slept at
night, their silhouettes casting long, late summer shadows over us
while the crickets chirped their lullabies.
I miss sleeping so deeply I wake up in the morning with
a sore ear and a deep indentation of my face in my pillows. I miss
waking up to the smell of pancakes and burned toast; I miss
listening to my parents converse in hushed tones while we children lay
still in our beds, relishing the last few moments before getting up
and setting our bare feet on the icy floor with a squeal.
I miss long August days and long December evenings. I
miss burning marshmallows to a crisp in front of the fireplace; or
eating hot buttery, salty popcorn with tart red delicious apples.
I miss feeling so comfortable that I lose all my goofy
adolescent insecurities that I try so hard to hide from the people
I work for. I miss feeling so loved and safe that it's almost like
God is carrying me in his pocket. I miss laughing so hard
that I run out of breath and get the hiccups and can't stop.
I miss kneading bread with Grandma Bellezza. She named
me. She taught me to knit when I was ten. I got my nose and my
laugh from her. I have my father's ears and fair hair and
sensitive alabaster skin. The rest of my siblings take after my mother's
people and Grandma Bellezza, olive-skinned and mysterious and very
I am my father's daughter.
I miss my father. I miss my family.
I miss being able to read a whole book, start to
finish, in one weekend, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets while the snow
falls in flurries outside.
I miss taking the dogs, Samantha and Charlie, for walks
in the crisp autumn air, heavy with the smell of smoke from
bonfires. I let my mind drift back in time, before the White House.
Before Dr. Freeride, even. Back when life was simple,
uncomplicated, and I rode around in God's shirt pocket.
You know, safe and snug in the cocoon that is home and
family. Being comfortable in my own skin.
At night I dream of running away. Getting in my car
and going as far and as fast as I possibly can. In my dreams it only
takes a few hours to get to Wisconsin from Washington D.C.
Sometimes when I go I take Josh with me. Other times, he's already waiting
for me when I get there.
In my dreams Josh says things to me like "you're
dangerous because you're honest," and "you're honey child to a swarm of
bees." Of course, he only says things like that when I fall
asleep listening to U2. Sometimes he's Josh and sometimes he's the Josh I
know he is inside, positively true and honest and sweet. Of
course in the real world, we're too busy doing this weird two-step thing
we've got going to let our guards down.
One step forward and two steps back.
And in other dreams...
Well, let's just cue up the Marvin Gaye, folks.
Yes, I have those kinds of dreams too. What normal,
red-blooded American woman wouldn't?
Let's Get it On.
I'm really afraid to think about the future. I mean,
my family is my past, and Josh is my present. Who will be in my
future? I'm truly not concerned about my family. They've always been
Will Josh always be there?
At night I dream of making a snow man with Josh and a
small child with dimples and alabaster skin. My mother and father
are there, too. And my siblings. We're all there at the old
house, together, with the stately pines watching over us and the snow
falling softly around us.
It's like a Hallmark card, really.
If only life was as beautiful as my dreams, where the
past and today and maybe tomorrow all blend together and everything
gets fuzzy, like when you try to take a picture out of a moving car.
Life goes by so fast, you only want to do what you
think is right. Close your eyes and then it's past; It's the story of
Good times come and good times go,
I only wish the good times would last a little longer.
Close your eyes and then it's past; it's the story of