I loved working in Costa Rica. It was important for me to get away from my family personally and professionally. My time there was enriching, eye-opening, and humbling.
But now that I’ve had time to process, I can admit that last Christmas was by far the lowest point for me. I avoided coming home because I didn’t want the pain of missing my mom. Instead, I got the pain of missingeveryone.
I was alone with my grief, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. The weight of it nearly suffocated me.
Somehow, this angel ties those feelings of loneliness, grief, and longing together, coupled with that humbling sense I got from my time there.
And, of course, it’s an angel.
I run my finger along one of the wrought iron wings. The metal is cool and smooth, and as I follow the natural curves, I can feel the slight ridges from where the artisan painstakingly worked the material.
Coop joins me with a receipt and a large white bag. “Oh, is that one from Costa Rica?” he asks. “You should get it.”
“The ornaments are gifts for donations,” I say, putting it back. It almost hurts to let go of it. “I’ll donate, but the top tier donations are a little out of my price range. This bead heart is beautiful, though.” I pick up a red bead heart, also from Costa Rica.
“It is,” he agrees.
“So, what did you get?” I look at his bag.
“Something from everywhere,” he says. “I like getting my mom gifts from around the world. She’ll love this stuff.”
He smiles, and I wish he’d say something more. Elaborate. But he just smiles. It’s not like he’s shutting me out, but it’s almost like he’s pretending an entire wing of a mansion doesn’t exist. And that tears my heart a little.
He told me he’d always be honest with me. He said I was tough enough to handle the truth.
So … where’s all that truth?
“Hey guys,” someone from Firebirds management says. “The snow is hitting hard. The Feeding Futures people said they’re closing so everyone can get home safely.”
I check out quickly, making my donation and getting the pretty heart ornament from Costa Rica. And then we all head to the front doors. I see Juliet and Nate waiting for me.
“Hey, are you guys heading out?” Juliet asks.
“We drove separately, but yeah,” Coop says.
“Be careful,” Juliet says. Then she grabs my shoulders. “Do you still have the emergency supplies in your car?”
“Of course, Mom.”
Juliet doesn’t smile. “I mean it, Lee. Watch out, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, and then I give her a hug. “You too.”
“Nate drove the Hummer today. We’ll be fine. See you back home.”
Coop is talking to Nate. “Did they say anything about flights in and out of O’Hare?”
Nate shakes his head. “I didn’t read anything about it. But if you need a flight, I’m happy to arrange for some help.”
Coop snorts. “Don’t tell me you own an airline.”
“Don’t be absurd. It’s a single jet.”
“My mistake,” Coop says. Then he gives me a wide-eyed look, and I give him a pointed shrug that saysSee? He can’t help himself.
We all bundle up, including putting on snow hats—toques, as my mom always said—and zipping up our thick coats. Then webrave the elements. The wind howls, and snow falls at a sharp angle.
“Bye!” Juliet and I call to each other. Coop and I run to our cars, which are parked on the same row, a few spots down from each other. He drives a gray Jeep Grand Cherokee, and the light is on. Did he already hit the unlock button?
