Black & White Wednesday ~ Chill

I close my eyes and I'm transported back to a very fancy, 1960's cocktail party. Think Mad Men. My grandmother's fur coat comforts me. Haunts me. I'm unsettled and pleased at the same time. In my mind I am not the child watching the events from a staircase or balcony, but I am one of the bejeweled. Hair up, diamonds sparkling, evening gown brushing the floor as I glide under the chandelier at the entrance and into the foyer. I'm quickly surrounded and someone reaches for the precious fur wrap and my powder blue clutch. As soon as my hands are free, the host hands me my favorite cocktail. With a kiss on the cheek and the perfunctory, "Happy New Year" my fingers close around the crystal tumbler. I feel the familiar chill, which oddly begins to warm my already frigid hands.

Clink, clink. I swirl the gin and tonic. I smell the lime. I hear the jingle jangle of the ice cubes and all else falls away. As the music fades, lips are still moving. I see laughter, but don't hear it. Women move across the marble floor in heels, but there is no click. No clack. Everything falls silent except the sounds of ice.

At the bar, cubes are scooped from a bucket and sent clanging into the glasses. The sharpest jangling comes as ice hits glass, with undertones of ice on ice harmonizing and sweetening the tune. As the liquid is added, the melody mesmerizes me completely. In these few seconds, even before the gin touches my lips, I am comforted. The familiar relief from the tension of the day and the insecurities that come with the who's who of the grand event is waiting for me. The singing ice is my harbinger.

I open my eyes. Clutching my grandmother's coat, I look out across the pond. There are cars and wind and many people out for an afternoon walk. Yet it is the ice that holds me transfixed. The frozen chunks of pond water mix and mingle, jostle and jingle like hundreds of drink laden hands at a cocktail party. And I'm carried back to the moments when I crouched on the stairs watching the magic, the mystery and the misery of the fancy, grown up world around me.

{Composed from Tuesday's free write for Writing Naturally ~ Winter}

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