The Journal of L.V

January - Saturday

15/01/2020

Saturdays will always be my favorite days.

It is the one day of the week where I do not have to worry about school, home life, exceeding the expectations of others, etc.

It is the one day of the week where I can just be me without having to worry about other people's opinions.

Toady had been a typical Saturday, except that the early morning had been spent making sure Mom was not too hungover to go to work.

That particular part had been typical since Mom and David's wedding.

I am starting to think Mom has a drinking problem.

Or maybe she drinks because of the anxiety.

Ever since the divorce, Mom has not been very..... stable.

In all honesty, Dad has told me that Mom has never been entirely put together.

He said that Mom has been struggling with anxiety and her insecurities ever since before he met her.

Dad said that Mom's parents and siblings never treated with respect.

They always insulted her and made her question her self-worth.

I hate my Mother's part of the family.

I asked my Father why Mom was so affected by people who, obviously, were not worth the trouble.

Dad had simply said that Mom was a people pleaser, especially when it came to people she cared about.

I suppose Dad is right about that.

I just worry that if Mom does not improve, she might find herself on the patient's end in a mental health facility.

I also worry that Mom might become an alcoholic.

I try my best to comfort Mom and get her back on track, but it's getting quite hard to get her out of her funk these days.

I blame David.

Lately, he has treating Mom like an annoying piece of furniture he wants to sell or throw away as soon as possible.

I hate that man.

Thank Goodness David is not expected to be back from New York until next week Tuesday.

Anyway, after Dad and I helped Mom get to work mostly headache-free, we picked up Jeremiah and Peter and headed for the open snow.

Peter positively lit up when he saw the acres upon acres of snow and ice.

"I never want to leave!", Peter had exclaimed as he fell face-first into the snow and began making a snow angel.

Behind me, Dad and Jeremiah chuckled and joined Peter in making snow angels.

I joined them too, because, why not?

I was not too sure how long we had been laying in the snow, but we had to stop when Peter had exclaimed that he had lost all feeling in his face.

Peter and Dad went to get our ice skates, while Jeremiah and I took the time to gather sticks, stones, etc, to make snowmen.

It was funny seeing Jeremiah so heavily dressed.

He wore two sweaters, a heavy snowboarding jacket, thick pants, snow boots and at least three pairs of socks.

He had a thick scarf wrapped around his neck, thick gloves on his hands and a Canadian Toque (those special Canadian hats with furry flaps) that covered all of his dark, curly hair.

I was not as heavily dressed.

I wore one wool sweater, a snowboarding jacket, thick pants, a pair of thick socks and snow boots.

I also wore one of Babushka's scarves around my neck, warm finger-less gloves and Dad's ushanka.

I had always found Jeremiah's fear of the cold adorable, especially since we lived in such a cold environment.

Dad also found it adorable, hence why could not wait to bring Jeremiah to Russia with us one day.

Jeremiah always reminded me that he was originally from Texas, so his body was never meant to be out in such cold weather.

I would laugh and tell him that at least we had snow here in Canada.

"What was Russia like?", Peter had asked while we had been making our snowman.

I blinked and asked him who he was talking to, since Dad had lived in Russia all his life.

"I'm asking you, Sissie, " Peter answered.

I smiled and told him all about my view of Russia.

I told him about the beautiful snow-filled fields that Dad and I would always play in.

I told him about the great forests of Siberia that my cousins and I would always explore.

I told him about the very pretty city of Moscow that I visited with Mom at some point.

I told him about the ice-cold rivers Cousin Boris and I would push each other into.

I told him about our grandparents' house, how my cousin and I would be roped into helping Babushka cook meals everyday.

I told him about Dedushka's wild stories of how he once beat a bear at Durak (a card game), survived a wolf attack with just one bottle of Vodka, or how he won Babushka over with the best mead in the entire Soviet Union.

"When are you visiting again? And can I come with?" Peter had asked enthusiastically.

Dad smiled warmly, "I am not completely sure when we shall be going back to Russia to visit, but when we do, I'll make sure we all go."

Peter had been buzzing for the rest of the afternoon.

He wouldn't stop asking questions about Russia, what the family was like, how did everyone live, etc.

And then Jeremiah had thrown a snowball at Peter's face, which had led to an all-out snowball fight.

I had won of course.

Jeremiah complained that I should not have been allowed to play since I was abnormally strong.

I threw a snowball at his face just to spite him for that one.

And as revenge, Jeremiah showed off his figure skating skills just to spite me.

For a guy from Texas, he sure knew how to skate gracefully.

I know how to skate, but I cannot do that fancy footwork on the ice, especially since for most of my life I played hockey.

Hockey skates are a lot different than figure skates.

About two hours before sunset, we decided to make flavored water ice pops.

Dad dug perfectly sized holes in the snow and positioned our ice pop sicks so that they were halfway in the holes.

Peter, Jeremiah and I poured in the flavored water.

It was a common tradition here in Canada to make maple syrup ice pops in the snow when it got cold, but that would take too long so we decided to use flavored water.

It only took between two and three hours.

When I had first made these ice pops in the presence of Jeremiah, he had squawked and yelled about  how unsanitary it was to eat stuff that been buried in the dirty snow.

In response, I had picked up a bunch of snow in my hands and stuffed it into my mouth.

I then did the same thing to Jeremiah, which had led to Jeremiah screaming that I was crazy and that he could not feel his mouth.

I then laughed and asked him to wait and try the ice pops.

Jeremiah had squawked some more, but had ended up waiting with me to try them.

And the look on his face when he tried them was priceless.

Back to the present: 

While we waited for our ice pops to freeze, Jeremiah had decided to entertain us with a free skate dance.

He had said that he wanted to re-enact a free skate from an ice-skating anime he and I had watched together.

I had told Jeremiah he would end up on his face since, for one, this was real life, not anime and, for another, one needed to be a professional figure ice skater to even attempt those moves.

In response, Jeremiah had simply pinched my cheek and told me to have more faith in him.

Peter and Dad had said that they believed in Jeremiah's skills.

I had shrugged and decided to watch.

And as I thought, Jeremiah ended up on his back or his face every time he attempted to do a quadruple flip or any other fancy flips or loops like that. 

I winced every time he fell, but once I saw his smile I relaxed.

Jeremiah knew he could not do what was done in the anime, but he did it for laughs.

When Jeremiah got off the ice, he gave me a look like, 'Please don't say you told me so' , but since it was me, I just had to.

When that was over, we noticed the sunset and decided to watch it from the back of Dad's pickup truck.

The sunset was beautiful.

It was a mix of reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, purples and blues.

Each color was just as striking and beautiful as the others.

The sunset made me think about Jeremiah and all his different quirks.

The brightness of the yellows reminded me of his own brilliant mind.

The fierce oranges reminded me of Jeremiah's passion to not let his home life dictate the rest of his life.

The warm reds reminded me of his warm smile that could make the coldest nights seem like summer days.

The soft pinks reminded me of how gentle, yet firm his words and hugs could be.

The streaks of purple reminded me of his occasional streaks of playfulness.

The ever-darkening blues reminded me of his own ever-darkening eyes and how they could convey the deepest words or emotions, how they could convey his deepest self.

I wondered if my eyes conveyed my deepest self.

I wondered if my eyes only conveyed what most people saw in me.

A frozen wasteland that could produce no warmth and no happiness.

Jeremiah had asked me what was wrong when he noticed I had not responded to any of his questions.

In response, I asked him what my eyes reminded him of.

Jeremiah had been quiet for a moment, before he smiled and said:

"Your eyes remind me of the sunrise on a snowy horizon. The bright amber color around your pupil remind me of the sunrise. The icy-blue surrounding it reminds of a snowy horizon with a clear blue skyline. It's beautiful and reminds you that there'll always be warmth there if you search for it. You have nice eyes, Mishka, I'm kind of jealous."

I laughed at the last bit, and I laughed even more when Peter protested that his own color-changing eyes were a lot nicer than my eyes.

Dad had scoffed and said that a lot people liked his blue eyes.

Jeremiah squawked and proudly said that at least his chocolatey eyes were the type you could get lost in.

At the end of the evening, I noticed that my ice pop was a lot sweeter than usual.

-L.V