Okay, so a little bit from the beginning of one of my stories

February 1955
Addie walked the path, leaving a clearly marked wide line etched in the snow, her footprints swept over by the back of her skirt, wiped from existence. Snow fell soft on her brown face, the individual flakes sparkling with the reflection of Atlanta’s streetlamps. It felt like a charmed night to her, and at this hour, 4:30 in the morning, the streets were sparse, only flaps of paper rolling down the streets to suggest any prior presence of life.
Lifting her arms from their rhythm of swinging by her sides, she did a few twirls. There was just something about this night, morning, whatever it was that was special; something that marked it off from the continuous nights that had come to pass and the nights that would come to pass. Every few yards she would pass under another streetlamp, and for those suspended milliseconds beneath its haze, anything in her range of vision was soft, not deep in dimension, and was illuminated, creating a bubble of light that both she and her vision were enclosed in. Looking up at the lamp, it looked like a bright light when looked through with chlorine-soaked eyes, edges smeared in fleeting, fluid rainbows. When she was small she had swam at the YMCA a few times, and she remember looking at the light over her family’s kitchen table and viewing a similar sight.
Continuing to walk on those Atlanta streets, Addie passed Hal’s Barber Shop, where her mama worked when she was a girl. For memory’s sake, she pressed her nose up against its cold glass windows and pretended for a while that she could see her mama trimming the beard of some stranger, working diligently, concentration marked heavy upon her brow. After work, she and her mama would walk further down those streets, hand in hand, until they reached the little apartment they shared with her father and baby brother, Elijah.
But no, her mama and her family had been lost years ago, and for a moment Addie felt her tear ducts prickle. No, she thought, it would do no good, must get on home. But the memories had taken their toll, the night no longer felt any different from the others.
Addie tried to brush these feelings away, and decided to instead think about her life at present. She had a wonderful man, Lawrence, and she felt that pretty soon they would get married and start a family of their own. Oh how Addie wanted a family of her own! Her own little baby, product of herself and the person she loved most in the world. Yes, these were much better thoughts to dwell on, and she started to feel her spirits rise a little.
She then found her thoughts drifting back to the night’s work. As much as she enjoyed nursing, sometimes it would send an age old pain through her as well. A little girl was currently her favorite patient. She was twelve, but had the body of an eight year old. Elizabeth Carter, Lizzie, as she demanded to be called. Lizzie was everything she would want in a daughter, and she thought of the first night she had visited Lizzie, nearly three and a half months ago.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

She walked into Elizabeth’s room about 1:00 to find her sound asleep in her little bed. She looked around at the little room, identical to all of the rest of the hospital rooms except for a balloon someone had brought for Lizzie, ‘Get Well Soon’ it said in faded yellow letters, contrasting against the purple background. Addie had gone in the room to retrieve Lizzie’s tray from dinner, and she quietly made her way over to the little bedside table and bent down to pick it up. Then something she had never heard before happened. She let her eyes find Elizabeth’s resting head, her little sprigs of black fuzz nearly touching her eyes.
No, she thought, Lizzie won’t do it again. Just as Addie turned to leave though, she once again heard the soft whisper of Lizzie’s voice. “Mama,” she cooed. “I love you.” Her words began to come out mumbled though as she hit the ‘you’ and Addie felt as if she was intruding upon something very special. The girl’s thought were flowing out of her mouth without her knowledge, revealing her private thoughts, and in those thoughts, little pieces of the girl’s life, personality, and hopes that she had not willingly told Addie, and probably wouldn’t. Addie couldn’t help to be touched though, and before she left, she gently brushed the black curls off Lizzie’s forehead and felt a desire that at the time she couldn’t place a name on.
Later she had realized the desire, something she felt she had really wanted for a very long time; a child; a piece of herself that she knew that she would never have without one. It was since that night that her body and her mind had yearned for a child, and she planned to tell Lawrence that following day.