THE DAY I SMASHED THE WINDOW
It was a bright snowy day as I trudged home from school that cold winter afternoon. My older sister, who was usually with me, as we walked to and from school together, most if not all school days, had to stay later to practice for the upcoming play that she was going to be participating in. She was playing the part of Gabriel the angel, who announces to Mary that she was to be the Mother of God. We of course were attending Catholic school.
I approached the house which my mother called, “the shack,” ever since we had moved here from the nice house we had previously. And it was a shack! The roof leaked, the wind whistled through the cracks in the house and the toilet was practically outside. The toilet seat would freeze over in winter. I was starting to get chills from the wind which had picked up and my feet were soaked. It was better when it snowed until the snow melted of course.
Today seemed particularly miserable with the snow coming through my shoes and the wind biting at my legs and so I was anxious to get inside where it was warm. That is, it would be warm if father had remembered to keep the coal stove going and not let it die out like he frequently did.
I did not remember whether father was going to be home today or not. He was supposed to be out looking for a job, which meant that mother would be home and I was happy about that. I did not want to hear them quarreling again and mother usually had a snack for us after school, usually cookies and cocoa or tea.
Mostly, I went around to the kitchen door and took my boots, if I had any, off and shook any snow off before coming into the house. But I was so cold and miserable I decided to go in through the front door. I tried the door and it didn’t budge, so I tried it again. No luck. Then I decided to knock because I knew someone was home, I could hear the radio. I banged on the glass in the window. There were six separate panes of glass in the top of the door, the bottom half was wood. Still no one was coming to the door.
I did have a temper and by this time I was getting angry in addition to being cold and having wet feet, so I banged harder than I should have. Just then, on the third bang, the glass shattered! Now I could hear footsteps coming to the door and also yelling and cursing! My wrist was bleeding at this point from the broken glass shards and I could feel myself being pulled inside!
“What the hell?” Father was screaming as he dragged me inside.
To Be Continued.