The first Christmas after Jack died, Jane drank herself into oblivion. The house was too quiet and there was nothing else to do.  The sun was shining on her face when she woke up the next day. Her mouth felt like sandpaper, her head pounding and the cheery light did nothing for her mood. It had been two and a half months since Jack had succumbed to the cancer that had taken over his body.

After the funeral, friends slowly drifted away.  They didn’t know how to talk to her. Their world held nothing interesting for her. She had moved in with Jack when it became obvious that he was losing the fight and had not yet returned to her condo.

Jane got up from the couch, headed to the kitchen for tea and two Advil. She hadn’t bothered to decorate. What was the point? A co-worker had given her a glittery red Christmas ball to hang on her tree.  It reflected rainbows hanging from the handle of the cupboard door.

Jane looked out the kitchen window as she filled the kettle. It had snowed overnight, given everything a new, clean look. She would have to shovel today.  Maybe, she’d wait until tomorrow.

Movement at the far end of the yard caught the corner of her eye as she set the kettle to boil. She went to the patio door.  There it was again.

She poured the boiling water into her cup and while it was steeping, she got dressed. Curiosity was both a blessing and a curse. She would check out whatever was in the backyard and she’d shovel the path that led to the firewood shed.

She added milk to the tea and watched from the kitchen window to where she had seen the movement. There was nothing there now. Still…

She pulled on her boots, coat and mitts and opened the back door. The air was crisp. Her boots announced every step as she made her way to the tiny little mound. Mewing, faint at first, got louder as she got closer. Jane reached into the mound and found the kitten. Shivering and tiny, Jane scooped it up, took off her glove and held it in her warm hand. “Where’s your mama?” She spied a tiny trail and followed it to the massive blackberry bush along the back fence.

Jane heard a meow and a bunch of mewing. She crawled under the bush to reach the litter. “Here you go Mama. This one wandered away.” Jane looked closely at the brood. They were in rough shape. The babies were shivering. Mama was really skinny and had little body warmth to give her babies never mind food. Jane couldn’t leave them here.

She trudged back to the house and grabbed one of the empty packing boxes (there were lots to choose from since she hadn’t been able pack his things) and placed Jack’s lap blanket in it.

Emerging from the house, she headed for the bush. One by one, Jane put the kittens into the box. Mama supervised and when all of the kittens were in the box, she jumped in. Jane carried the family into the kitchen and set the box in a corner. She rummaged in the cupboard for an old dish, poured water in it and set it on the floor. There was no cat food so Jane took a little bit of shepherd’s pie and placed it on a dish beside the milk.

Mama waited until Jane moved away. She ate and drank furtively. The babies began mewing.  Mama went to them, climbed in and laid down. The mewing was quickly replaced by sucking noises as each kitten found a teat.

Jane headed to the garage. Years ago, Jack had heard that cat litter was better than salt for winter sidewalks. He swore by it. Jane emptied a plastic tub that he used for car washing supplies and filled it with litter. It went into the two-piece bathroom off the hallway.

Jane headed to the kitchen to check on the brood. Mama watched her as she got closer to the box. All the kittens were sleeping and seemed to be doing better. Mama laid her head down and sighed.

At a loss for what to do, Jane headed to the office beside the kitchen. She wanted to be close in case – of what she didn’t know. She had tried to empty this room in the weeks following the funeral. Jack didn’t spend much time here so she thought it wouldn’t be so hard. His name on a bill had her weeping. His handwriting too. After two weeks, she closed the door and left it.

Today, the office felt different. Jane spent an hour throwing away the old bills from 1978 to 2000 that Jack had filed. She stopped when the tears were threatening to fall again.

The cat family was quiet as she made her way to the couch, pulled the blanket over herself and drifted off. Jane dreamt of a sunny summer day when she was eight. They had spent it at the lake building sandcastles, eating ice cream and swimming. It was the 4^th of July and they always stayed until the end of the fireworks. That year, she was awake for them. When they got home that night, Jack tucked her into bed. She could feel the light butterfly kisses on her cheek as he said goodnight.

She jerked awake and saw Mama an inch from her face. Jane felt the cat’s breath on her cheek. Mama licked the single teardrop winding its way down Jane’s face, rubbed herself against Jane and purring, snuggled against her to nap.