The Cold, Little Hands

The Cold, Little Hands

          
written by Abbie --The year was probably 1967. The day was in the middle of January, the coldest month of the year, and the temperature was well below freezing. Amy and Bobby and Granddad (Grandma Abbie’s father, David Mudie) and I had gone to the doctor on the North Side and were returning to where the car was parked on North Avenue. The small diagonal path we were following through the park intersected another path. At that intersection we met a young mother and her two small children, a boy and a girl, both with bare hands and cold, teary-eyed, red faces. Both were crying. The young mother and I spoke.

She was on her way to her church, hoping to get some badly needed help from her priest, perhaps able to arrange to have her heat turned on.  Amy (5) and Bobby (3) both took off their mittens and put them on the cold, little hands of the smaller children.  Amy and Bobby were bundled appropriately for the weather, but the other two smaller children were not. It was a bitter cold scene.

          Together we all walked to the car and the warmth of its heater.

          The young mother told us her husband had been shipped off to a far-away place called Vietnam. She had never heard of Vietnam, but she knew her husband was in the army and had probably been sent off to war.

          I have often thought of this young mother and her cold, little children and her brave, young husband who had gone to serve his country. I hope he returned safely and he and his family fared well.

                                                                 
  Written by Grandma Abbie Geertz