Terabithia Monologue

“Mama can we walk to Tirrellabithia after we slide?” McCullough looked up at me,
Tweety Bird eyes shining between the top of her scarf and the fluffy trim of her hat.” Tirrellabithia is the name my kids gave to the remnants of an old, three sided, stone foundation standing proud at the edge of the woods. I had recently read most of Bridge to Terabithia to all three of my children. As we closed in on the tragic climax of the book, my kids began to fidget in distracted but deliberate ways beneath the patched quilt we shared, until finally they insisted I stop reading the book. At this point I knew I had chosen a book they were not yet ready for. I chalked it up to a lapse in parental judgment and allowed the guilt to wash down over me.
The wind was no longer like an exhale, instead it assaulted us by driving snow headlong into our faces. The snow had transformed into mini ice pellets, sharp and stinging. Despite our winter gear, the icy missiles managed to find their way into the folded gap between our scarves and necks. Before long it was difficult to see, like driving on the highway in a storm with frozen wipers. Again I berated myself for not checking the weather before we left. This was bad, I wondered why I hadn’t heard any warnings of the storm days before. We continued on, taking frequent breaks. The kids eyelashes were frosted white and their faces shone red under streams of melting snow. Every time we stopped I dug the bottom of my sweatshirt out from under my coat to wipe the wet off their faces. A small white circle appeared at the bottom of one of Cully’s cheeks and thoughts of frostbite plagued me telling me I was a horrible mother. I closely inspected Reeghan’s cheeks then Aidan’s, wondering if a pale circle on red skin really is a sign of frostbite. The kids walked on silently, head down, one foot in front of the other; like little soldiers they followed my lead home. I wanted one of them to ask me to carry them,