11:24 PM

After the car passes, I still can't remove my hands from my eyes. There is silence. No tiny wails for help. Not even a quiet murmur of petrified feline fear. I took part in the killing of a stray kitten. Oh my God! I'm a homicide suspect!

My heart explodes into a hundred itty-bitty throbbing hearts, and the tiny blood pumpers are scattered throughout every corner of my body. Hearts pounding in my neck. Hearts pounding in my ears. Hearts pounding at the tips of my fingers and toes. Hearts pounding on the surface of my skin. Every molecule in my body is buzzing. It's almost as if I've suddenly acquired super human powers and I'm aware of every small sound, smell, taste and texture around me.

What I don't want is my new super human sense of sight. What am I going to see when I open my eyes? As I'm dreading the answer to this question, I can hear a rhythmic slapping sound from behind me. It gets louder and closer as each second passes.

"Are you OK?" a breathless male voice asks.

I turn around and reluctantly open my eyes to find myself staring at Ginger Head Man's gumdrop blue irises. For some strange reason, the candy kiss of his gaze melts my typical stone cold mannerism, and I begin to whimper. I never cry in front of strangers. In fact, I don't even cry in front of friends. But I'm crying now. My protective wall is cracked. Fear and pain from years of mental self-destruction are spilling all over the street corner for everyone to see. I'm both humiliated and surprisingly relieved.

"I killed a kitten," I whisper, bottom lip quivering.

Ginger reaches out and puts his hands on my shoulders. "What? Where?"

I point to the middle of the intersection—the red streetlight glow now creating a horrible crime scene vibe. But then I see it. There, in the petroleum soaked aftermath of a winter storm, a kitten shivers in fearful silence—inches away from a fresh tire impression in the snow.

I gasp in relief, crying a whole new set of happy tears. Ginger Head Man dashes into the street without a word, sliding on the icy road in his flip flops. He scoops the kitten out of the slush and carefully examines the furry body. Then he gently places the tiny feline in his trench coat pocket before braving the slippery dance back up to the sidewalk.

"It looks like she, or he, is going to be OK." He smiles and hands the baby over to me. I nuzzle the tiny mouser with big green eyes in the crook of my neck. "I'd recommend taking the little critter to the vet, though. I know someone who will do a free examination if you need a name."

"Thank you," I whisper, still attempting to herd my uncontrolled flock of emotions.

"My pleasure. There wasn't much happening at the Laundromat tonight, anyway. I needed a distraction."

Normally I'd just nod and utter a few Seattle Freeze pleasantries before going on my way, but I feel obligated to start a small conversation to show my appreciation. "So why are you doing laundry on New Year's Eve?"

Ginger stares at his toes, then flashes that crooked smile I mistook earlier for a creep-mark. "My neighbor. I'm looking after him. His wife of nearly 70 years died recently. They had a tradition where they'd wash everything in the house on New Year's Eve so they could start off the New Year with a clean slate. Dirty clothes. Dishes. Dusty figurines. Everything. But since she's not here to help him clean this year, I thought I'd give him a hand." Ginger looks up at me and adds softly, "I remember what it was like those first few months after losing my wife."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No. Don't apologize. My wife's been gone for a while now. She passed away about a year after our daughter was born."

Awkwardness looms. How can I possibly keep a conversation going when the topic is dead wives?

"Your neighbor is very lucky to have your understanding and kindness through this chapter of his life."

Ginger nods. "It's been good for me too. It's nice to know positive things can come from heartbreaking experiences."

Thankfully the kitten starts to get restless, giving me the perfect excuse to make a quick exit from the uncomfortable situation. "It looks like I'm helping a soul get through a rough chapter tonight myself. I suppose I'll need to get a few things. Kitty food. And cat litter. And flea shampoo. Oh crap, I'm going to need a lot of things!"

Ginger Head Man laughs. "You better get back to the store quickly before they close. I think the doors shut at midnight."

"It's almost that time, isn't it? I should run." I pick my bag and wallet up off the ground before turning on my heel to follow my footprints back to the market. But before I get too far away I glance over my shoulder and shout, "Thank you for your kindness, by the way. And best wishes to you and your neighbor in the New Year! I hope you both find beautiful new beginnings!"

"Same to you!" he responds. "Happy Beautiful New Year to you, too!"

*********NACHO BREAK*********   

I'm sort of in love with the elderly neighbor's New Year's Eve tradition. What things do you do when you need a fresh start in life? Please share. I'm taking notes. 

If this chapter filled you with even the tiniest flutter of joy, PLEASE click that star. A vote would fill THIS girl with so much fluttery amazingness! 

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