The Between Years

think religion was a crutch for weak-minded people, but now I know it's a home for the faithful, but also a hospital for the spiritually hurt. You never really get over losing your child, and I still suffer flashbacks over how I lost mine. These are like a looped reel, making me relive Kenny's death forevermore.

CHAPTER 12
    I love fall weather, mostly because it's never too hot or too cold. Summers in Fort Erie can be particularly spiteful because of the humidity that guys say makes their balls stick to their legs. So the middle of September through the first few weeks of October are a refreshing break from the sweltering summer, not to mention my deep enjoyment of the cascading colors of the turning leaves. But, like most areas surrounding the Great Lakes, you can rely on the adage: Don't like the weather? Wait five minutes!

    By the second week in October, Kenny was a full six months old, and Randy had returned to work. We adjusted our schedules as best we could so we would need a sitter for Kenny at a bare minimum. This move wasn't only to reduce expenses, but also because we wanted at least one parent to be home with Kenny as much as possible, so we could nurture our parent-child bond. Granted, that left Randy and I with less time together, which meant less time to catch up and less alone time to be friendly. I left the college on a Thursday afternoon with a pile of papers to grade. Since I had Fridays off that semester, I fully intended to spend a whole day with Kenny.

    After a department meeting that had drained me, I left my office at 4:15, hopped in my Chrysler and sped down Woodlawn road with the radio tuned to a low hum. Before long, I had slipped into the rural area that separated Fort Erie from Welland, and I basked in the peace and scenery. Wet gobs splattered my windshield and I twisted the lever to activate my wipers. The blades swept them away, but until then I hadn't realized any inclement weather was on the horizon. The thick grey clouds overhead changed my mind.

    As pellets of freezing rain smacked my windshield in torrents, I sped the wipers up, making them labor as hard as they were able. The pellets turned white and I knew right away that it wasn't sleet. Oh God, not already. Barely the second week in October, and snow was already assaulting us! But this was just wet snow, I told myself. No way would it actually stick to the ground.

    But alas, I wasn't meant to be right about everything (kidding!). My Chrysler crawled down Netherby road and passed the sign that welcomes drivers to Fort Erie. First, the road was slippery, making the car shift left and right, so my fingers curled around the wheel and my abdomen tensed. Farther down, I found telephone poles jutted and tree branches and power cables strewn in the street. I glanced at my fuel gauge and found the needle pointing towards E. I had planned to wait until I'd come home to fill up, figuring gas would be cheaper in Fort Erie. I sure as hell would have made alternate plans had I seen this coming.

    Before then, the earliest I'd ever seen snow was on Halloween, and those wet flakes only stayed on the ground until noon. That was nothing like this disaster. Sure, this is Canada we're talking about, but Fort Erie usually doesn't see snow until the end of November. This was unreal, especially since not one weatherman had said boo about it.

    Would I make it home or would I have to pull over and park on the shoulder until the weather let up? I'd seen people do that often enough on the very same road in lighter snowstorms than this and I had been willing to brave it the rest of the way into town. But I had no winter jacket, scarf or gloves with me, I couldn't run the engine for long, and my stomach was already grumbling. In retrospect, I'm glad I pressed on.

    As I drove, my windshield was covered by torrents of white and fogged up fast. I used my fist to wipe a small window within a window for whatever visibility I could create. I'd switched the radio off long ago so I could concentrate on the road. When I'm in those situations, I try and follow the car in front of me, and to stay in the grooves from his tire tracks as a way to stay on the road.

    By the time I reached town, the day had grown dim. Stoplights were out everywhere. Tree branches and wires were strewn all over the #3 highway, not to mention my neighborhood's pencil-thin streets, which made vehicular travel damn near impossible. I gripped the wheel tight as I squeezed past drivers