If only someone would find me and chisel me out of the ice in which I'd been imprisoned for for so long. I remember slipping down the steep embankment; the snow crunching beneath my boots as I scrambled desperately, trying to keep myself from falling into the semi- frozen river below. I remember as I hit the thin ice, how it cracked loudly beneath my boots, my knees, my hands. I remember how my heart pounded as the ice gave way beneath my weight. I remember falling through the ice into the water beneath; and how the excruciating cold seemed to slice through me like so many shards of frozen glass. The next thing I remember was lying, face up, seemingly paralyzed. The snow-covered branches of the trees swaying back and forth above me, looking strangely distorted. I couldn't blink, I couldnt move. I slowly realized that I was frozen beneath the river. Encased in ice, as I've remained ever since. I've noticed over the past few days, that the snow on the branches above me is melting. Slowly but surely. I can hear it as it melts, dripping onto my ice prison. I can tell that the ice is melting. I can see more clearly every day as the ice thins above me. I don't know how long I've been here. I'm sure I've been here much longer than the twenty three days I've counted since regaining consciousness. I'm certain of it because it was early in the Winter when I fell and the ice was thin, and there were still some leaves on the branches and there was only enough snow, only on the ground, to make the ground crunchy and slippery. When I gained awareness, the ice was solid, the trees were bare of leaves and heavy with snow. Some days the snow would fall, blowing across my ice-tomb. Some days piling up on top of me so I could see nothing but white. Days would go by and the snow obscured my vision. Then one day I heard a lound rumble. Something heavy was coming toward me on the ice. I could see nothing but white from beneath the snow, but I could feel by the vibrations, that whatever was coming toward me was gigantic.. and getting closer! Again I felt my heart pounding. I was terrified. It was right on top of me! Then my white world suddenly turned dark as the gigantic, vibrating thing moved over me. When it passed, I could see again! the ice was polished smooth, creating a window to the world outside. I heard voices shouting but couldn't make out what they were saying. Maybe I'd been found! I heard a familiar scraping sound... followed by more of the same. Soon I realized that people were skating over me! They were playing hockey right on top of me! The gigantic rumbling monster had been a zamboni, polishing the ice for the hockey players! It had to have been at least two months since I fell in! I tried to call out, but couldn't move my lips. I made sound but no one heard. Back and forth, they skated right over me without noticing. Hours went by and now my vision was obscured and blurry from the skate tracks over my window. It began to get dark and the skaters left me alone again in my ice tomb. Another long, lonely night passed. Another day. People came and went day after day and no one noticed the guy beneath the ice.
Each night, I dreamt of spring's warmth, with blossoming fruit trees, a hospitable invitation to the singing birds to return and mate, lay eggs and care for their young; melting ice in a lonely body of water, under the warming weather, wherein a frozen figure could float to the surface, sickly blue and purple lipped, wondering why no one had found him or noticed him, could be warmed, the fleshy colors returning and could return to his daily routines, which now seemed an eternity away. The only routine now was to watch skaters skate, boys being boys, and an occasional girl to watch her boy, the clouds float and part or dissipate and the sun rise and set. The days became one, becoming illusory to me, except the day that was today. The present day would last an eternity, only to melt together with the previous days, as my nightly dreams of spring washed them away.
Call me old-fashioned, but I like blood, particularly when it's warm and flowing through my veins. Is this what death feels like? I took an anatomy class in college. The teacher, apparently acclimated to his human-meat-locker environment, would often forget about that he was holding random organ or limb, and would gesture frantically, emphasizing a point in his lecture by waving the foot or spleen. It was surreal, and almost funny, until you remembered it was someone's dad or mom or brother. And, of course, they were DEAD. They weren't...well, whatever the hell this was. It didn't make sense. Was I frozen? If so, all brain function should have stopped, ocular nerve impulses at a standstill. I'm not religious, but I'd like to think that if there is a god or all-powerful nebulous cloud or whatever, that he/she/it has something better in store for me than this. Besides, whatever this was, it didn't fall into any description I'd ever heard of the afterlife. I don't recall the "eternity in a frozen pond" lesson in Sunday School. Wait, maybe this was hell and it actually did freeze over. That's funny! If my lungs weren't, you know, ice-packs, I'd laugh out loud. So, eliminating damnation to life-as-a-sorbet-everlasting, I'd come up with some possibilites. First, magic. It pained me even to think of it, but I had to admit that there was no way a person could survive for even five minutes in these conditions, let alone for weeks. As disturbing as that idea was to my rational brain, the second one troubled me even more. What if I was in a coma, and this existence I was perceiving was all in my mind. Perhaps my body lay in a hospital bed somewhere, hooked up to an ventilator and fed intravenously. I remembered seeing that Terry Schiavo lady on the news. Her husband wanting to let her die, her parents trying to keep her alive, the politicians trying to bend their grief to serve their aspirations. What did she spend her days seeing? Could she see her family and loved ones, hear their voices? Or was she buried in ice somewhere, too, watching the days quietly slip by. When they finally pulled the plug, did the ice melt? Did she feel warmth in her veins once again as she slipped into oblivion? Whatever the explanation was for my situation now, one thing was for sure: I was powerless to change it. If I was to get out, it would require the influence of someone or something, and as far as I could tell, no one knew I was down here. If they did, wouldn't they come to me, get me out?
I wondered, if I were in hell, would I still have the sleep/wake cycles that I continued to experience? If I were in a coma? I continued to wonder if this was what death was about. If I were rotting in a vacant field, would I continue to be aware until my brain turned to compost? If I were embalmed in a casket, six feet under the earth? The thought was horrifying. I knew that the ice was melting. If I were dead, would I be aware of my body decomposing after it thawed? Horrifying and terrifying. Then one morning, after waking from a dream-filled sleep, I slowly became aware of a change in my surroundings. The branches that had hung over me for the duration of my entombment were gone. I then became aware of a sensation of movement, rocking, vertigo. I was disoriented and confused for a moment until I began seeing tree branches, shrubs, shadows, passing quickly over me and I realized that I was moving. The ice had melted enough to send me floating down river, still encased in ice. At first I wasn’t all that worried, as the water was not flowing too fast and I still had hope that maybe once I was thawed and free, maybe I could resume my former life… I hoped. However, after what I assumed had to have been several miles of floating at an even pace down river, I realized I was picking up speed. My ice tomb began to undulate with increasing violence as I headed down river. I imagined crashing into one of the gigantic boulders I could now see, jutting out of my river. I imagined myself shattering along with my ice tomb against a jagged, granite monolith. I wondered if it would hurt, if I would retain awareness and hoped to avoid all of it. The turbulence grew stronger and I was tossed around with greater and greater force, now unable to see anything clearly, though briefly aware of blue sky, then, a split second later, dark and frothy water as I flipped from heads to tails. I could feel every scrape and impact as my tomb hit the river’s rocky bed or nicked one of the gigantic granite boulders I increasingly grew to fear. As the river picked up speed and violence, I now had something new to fear. What I should have suspected all along; falls. I’d never been this far down the river and had no idea what lay ahead. I only knew that at some point, it fed into the Atlantic Ocean. If I made it that far, I would have new worries. The current could potentially sweep me to the arctic ocean, where I might end up frozen indefinitely.
Just then a sickening cracking sound startled me. My body, still frozen solid, had hit a rock. Some part of me was broken, I knew it. Was the bottom half of my body now rushing downstream as my upper half lingered here, spinning and meandering after the ricochet?
If that was the case, perhaps I didn't want to thaw out, as I would certainly bleed out or worse, perhaps my guts would spill out. Of course, being frozen for eternity hardly sounded better to me. Then I saw it...
just a quick glimpse of what I was certain was a shoe... MY shoe! I only saw it for a fraction of a second as I was tossed wildly on the rapids, but I was positive, it must be my leg! I was gripped with horror as I imagined what lay ahead of me. I wondered, if my body thawed, would I bleed to death (that is if I were not already dead)? Would I feel pain? It seemed strange that I had not felt pain or cold throughout my ordeal. I felt movement, I felt the scrapes, the impacts as my ice tomb raced violently down river, but no pain, no cold. I wanted to close my eyes, but I haven't been able to do that in months. Just then, the earth dropped from beneath me and I was falling, turning, rolling in the air. One moment I saw the sky, then the waterfall, then the trees and the horizon and then the churning water below. I braced myself for what I imagined would be a violent impact against jagged, granite mololiths which surely awaited below the churning white water below... Suddenly I was underwater. I hadn't felt any impact. At first all I could see was the churning, white water; and then clear, dark water. Then I bobbed to the surface, face down. The water was calm now. For a long time, I watched the bed of the river below me; the rocks in the dark water, an occasional fish or two, and every once in a while, a near miss with a large boulder which I was certain would tear my face off.
I wished I could see better, to be sure I had seen my leg. I heard the crunching sound. I am frozen solid and something broke off. I suppose staring at the river bed was better than thinking about my leg or legs or perhaps my whole lower body floating down the river. I tried not to think about the process of thawing, only to watch my guts gush out of my torso as my blood thawed.
Fish began taking an interest in me. Perhaps I am dead anyway, so my lower body is irrelevant. I will literally be "food for the fishes." I don't know which would be worse, remaining where I was, watching hockey players or at least beginning to thaw, having to consider that I may be finished already. I continued to bob in the water, slowly spinning and bouncing off of rocks or the river bank. Where would I end up? What would happen to me? I tried not to think too much about it, but time was becoming short. Perhaps I would dream again tonight and perhaps it would be my last.
I slept fitfully that night. I had strange and terrifying dreams about being broken to bits against the rocks, eaten by fish, rotting on the shore as birds pecked at my eyes and entrails, or maggots feasting on my decomposing carcass. In my dreams, I could feel again. I felt pain as I was dashed against the sharp granite boulders; pain as the birds pecked at my eyes and entrails, horrible squirming and again pain as the maggots chewed my rotting corpse. Worse still, in my dream, I could smell the putrid stench of my own rotting flesh. It was a most horrifying night. The worst I’d ever experienced. I awoke with a terrible start and found, to my astonishment that I could once again feel cold.... terrible, excruciating cold. My ice tomb had finally melted and I could feel the icy wind blowing across my body. I was free. The sky was just beginning to glow in the East, but I could not yet see anything. I tried to move, but found myself stiff and achy. I wondered if I would be frozen here, paralyzed while my body was consumed. The horror of my nightmares came flooding into my thoughts. My heart was pounding as I imagined my nightmares coming true. It was then that I realized that I was shivering. That had to be a good sign… corpses don’t shiver. I tried again to move. This time I felt my arm move, just a little, but I’d moved! I tried again and my arm flopped limply across my belly. I was glad at least to be able to move at all after so many months encased in ice. I reasoned that it was to be expected that I would have difficulty moving after such an ordeal. I also reasoned that this whole ordeal defied reason in itself. I also hoped that I’d be able to get up and at least crawl away before something started eating me. A different kind of chill set in as I recalled the impact and seeing what looked to be at least my foot floating by. Reluctantly I tried to move my lower half, hoping it was still there. I felt my left leg move… then my right. Such great relief filled me that I laughed out loud…. Well, not loud… quite hoarsely, but I laughed somewhat audibly. I then tried rolling over. This was no easy feat. I rocked several times, but was unable to turn over. At this point, I began shivering violently. I’d almost forgotten what cold felt like. It was reassuring to be able to feel anything at all, but now I wondered if, after everything I’d been through, I’d freeze to death in the end. I was determined to make it. I tested all of my limbs and found that I could, with effort, move each of them. I managed to barely open and close my fists. I was able to flex my feet, though stiffly. Slowly and with difficulty, I bent my right leg out against the sand beneath me. Using my left arm, I made a great effort to push my body over onto my right side. I finally managed to roll over onto my side, but now my face was pressed into the wet sand and I could still only barely move my arms. After so many months of being frozen and unable to move at all, I’d have thought I’d have more patience now, but I had none. Every moment felt like hours. I slid my left arm up toward my face. I did the same with my right. The process was infuriatingly tedious. I tried to raise myself up, but was completely unable. I was exhausted. I closed my eyes, and was very pleased at the sensation of finally being able to close them. I awoke again to a cold rush of water washing over my face. I bolted upright and was surprised by the strength I’d gained since my last effort. The sun was up now, and though I was still quite cold, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my back.
A short distance away, rocking back and forth in the delta, was a shoe. My heart dropped. Reluctantly I looked down to determine whether or not it was mine. To my great relief, I appeared to be completely intact. Not only that, but I was still wearing the same boots I had on when I first fell through the ice all those months ago.
This was the day I had dreamed of for so long, although I didn't imagine it would be on a beach many miles from where I started, near my home in Canoose, Maine. I turned and looked at the rising sun, taking in the life giving, radiant heat. I hadn't been to the beach in years.
I took a look around, at the litter on the beach and the tide washing in and out and began walking back to civilization, anxious to get home. I found my wallet intact enough that my credit card was still good. I put it to good use.
The bus was smelly and the people ugly. At the nearest stop, I walked home at a brisk pace. Standing in front of my home, I was so glad to be back I nearly burst. My life was back, as if I had been resurrected. This was the warmer day I had dreamed of! I was nearly bursting with relief and anticipation. I walked quickly and then ran to the front door, anxious to see if my key still worked. It did, and I ran to take a hot bath and get back to watching television.
Later that winter, I often took breaks from watching television to watch the hockey players, boys being boys, an occasional girl watching her boy, the clouds float by, part or dissipate and the sun rise and set. Life was back to normal.
If only someone would find me and chisel me out of the ice in which I'd been imprisoned for for so long. I remember slipping down the steep embankment; the snow crunching beneath my boots as I scrambled desperately, trying to keep myself from falling into the semi- frozen river below. I remember as I hit the thin ice, how it cracked loudly beneath my boots, my knees, my hands. I remember how my heart pounded as the ice gave way beneath my weight. I remember falling through the ice into the water beneath; and how the excruciating cold seemed to slice through me like so many shards of frozen glass. The next thing I remember was lying, face up, seemingly paralyzed. The snow-covered branches of the trees swaying back and forth above me, looking strangely distorted. I couldn't blink, I couldnt move. I slowly realized that I was frozen beneath the river. Encased in ice, as I've remained ever since. I've noticed over the past few days, that the snow on the branches above me is melting. Slowly but surely. I can hear it as it melts, dripping onto my ice prison. I can tell that the ice is melting. I can see more clearly every day as the ice thins above me. I don't know how long I've been here. I'm sure I've been here much longer than the twenty three days I've counted since regaining consciousness. I'm certain of it because it was early in the Winter when I fell and the ice was thin, and there were still some leaves on the branches and there was only enough snow, only on the ground, to make the ground crunchy and slippery. When I gained awareness, the ice was solid, the trees were bare of leaves and heavy with snow.
ReplyDeleteSome days the snow would fall, blowing across my ice-tomb. Some days piling up on top of me so I could see nothing but white. Days would go by and the snow obscured my vision. Then one day I heard a lound rumble. Something heavy was coming toward me on the ice. I could see nothing but white from beneath the snow, but I could feel by the vibrations, that whatever was coming toward me was gigantic.. and getting closer! Again I felt my heart pounding. I was terrified. It was right on top of me! Then my white world suddenly turned dark as the gigantic, vibrating thing moved over me. When it passed, I could see again! the ice was polished smooth, creating a window to the world outside. I heard voices shouting but couldn't make out what they were saying. Maybe I'd been found! I heard a familiar scraping sound... followed by more of the same. Soon I realized that people were skating over me! They were playing hockey right on top of me! The gigantic rumbling monster had been a zamboni, polishing the ice for the hockey players! It had to have been at least two months since I fell in! I tried to call out, but couldn't move my lips. I made sound but no one heard. Back and forth, they skated right over me without noticing. Hours went by and now my vision was obscured and blurry from the skate tracks over my window. It began to get dark and the skaters left me alone again in my ice tomb. Another long, lonely night passed. Another day. People came and went day after day and no one noticed the guy beneath the ice.
Each night, I dreamt of spring's warmth, with blossoming fruit trees, a hospitable invitation to the singing birds to return and mate, lay eggs and care for their young; melting ice in a lonely body of water, under the warming weather, wherein a frozen figure could float to the surface, sickly blue and purple lipped, wondering why no one had found him or noticed him, could be warmed, the fleshy colors returning and could return to his daily routines, which now seemed an eternity away. The only routine now was to watch skaters skate, boys being boys, and an occasional girl to watch her boy, the clouds float and part or dissipate and the sun rise and set. The days became one, becoming illusory to me, except the day that was today. The present day would last an eternity, only to melt together with the previous days, as my nightly dreams of spring washed them away.
ReplyDeleteCall me old-fashioned, but I like blood, particularly when it's warm and flowing through my veins. Is this what death feels like? I took an anatomy class in college. The teacher, apparently acclimated to his human-meat-locker environment, would often forget about that he was holding random organ or limb, and would gesture frantically, emphasizing a point in his lecture by waving the foot or spleen. It was surreal, and almost funny, until you remembered it was someone's dad or mom or brother. And, of course, they were DEAD. They weren't...well, whatever the hell this was. It didn't make sense. Was I frozen? If so, all brain function should have stopped, ocular nerve impulses at a standstill. I'm not religious, but I'd like to think that if there is a god or all-powerful nebulous cloud or whatever, that he/she/it has something better in store for me than this. Besides, whatever this was, it didn't fall into any description I'd ever heard of the afterlife. I don't recall the "eternity in a frozen pond" lesson in Sunday School. Wait, maybe this was hell and it actually did freeze over. That's funny! If my lungs weren't, you know, ice-packs, I'd laugh out loud. So, eliminating damnation to life-as-a-sorbet-everlasting, I'd come up with some possibilites. First, magic. It pained me even to think of it, but I had to admit that there was no way a person could survive for even five minutes in these conditions, let alone for weeks. As disturbing as that idea was to my rational brain, the second one troubled me even more. What if I was in a coma, and this existence I was perceiving was all in my mind. Perhaps my body lay in a hospital bed somewhere, hooked up to an ventilator and fed intravenously. I remembered seeing that Terry Schiavo lady on the news. Her husband wanting to let her die, her parents trying to keep her alive, the politicians trying to bend their grief to serve their aspirations. What did she spend her days seeing? Could she see her family and loved ones, hear their voices? Or was she buried in ice somewhere, too, watching the days quietly slip by. When they finally pulled the plug, did the ice melt? Did she feel warmth in her veins once again as she slipped into oblivion? Whatever the explanation was for my situation now, one thing was for sure: I was powerless to change it. If I was to get out, it would require the influence of someone or something, and as far as I could tell, no one knew I was down here. If they did, wouldn't they come to me, get me out?
ReplyDeleteI wondered, if I were in hell, would I still have the sleep/wake cycles that I continued to experience? If I were in a coma? I continued to wonder if this was what death was about. If I were rotting in a vacant field, would I continue to be aware until my brain turned to compost? If I were embalmed in a casket, six feet under the earth? The thought was horrifying. I knew that the ice was melting. If I were dead, would I be aware of my body decomposing after it thawed? Horrifying and terrifying.
ReplyDeleteThen one morning, after waking from a dream-filled sleep, I slowly became aware of a change in my surroundings. The branches that had hung over me for the duration of my entombment were gone. I then became aware of a sensation of movement, rocking, vertigo. I was disoriented and confused for a moment until I began seeing tree branches, shrubs, shadows, passing quickly over me and I realized that I was moving. The ice had melted enough to send me floating down river, still encased in ice.
At first I wasn’t all that worried, as the water was not flowing too fast and I still had hope that maybe once I was thawed and free, maybe I could resume my former life… I hoped. However, after what I assumed had to have been several miles of floating at an even pace down river, I realized I was picking up speed. My ice tomb began to undulate with increasing violence as I headed down river.
I imagined crashing into one of the gigantic boulders I could now see, jutting out of my river. I imagined myself shattering along with my ice tomb against a jagged, granite monolith. I wondered if it would hurt, if I would retain awareness and hoped to avoid all of it.
The turbulence grew stronger and I was tossed around with greater and greater force, now unable to see anything clearly, though briefly aware of blue sky, then, a split second later, dark and frothy water as I flipped from heads to tails. I could feel every scrape and impact as my tomb hit the river’s rocky bed or nicked one of the gigantic granite boulders I increasingly grew to fear.
As the river picked up speed and violence, I now had something new to fear. What I should have suspected all along; falls.
I’d never been this far down the river and had no idea what lay ahead. I only knew that at some point, it fed into the Atlantic Ocean. If I made it that far, I would have new worries. The current could potentially sweep me to the arctic ocean, where I might end up frozen indefinitely.
Just then a sickening cracking sound startled me. My body, still frozen solid, had hit a rock. Some part of me was broken, I knew it. Was the bottom half of my body now rushing downstream as my upper half lingered here, spinning and meandering after the ricochet?
ReplyDeleteIf that was the case, perhaps I didn't want to thaw out, as I would certainly bleed out or worse, perhaps my guts would spill out. Of course, being frozen for eternity hardly sounded better to me. Then I saw it...
just a quick glimpse of what I was certain was a shoe... MY shoe! I only saw it for a fraction of a second as I was tossed wildly on the rapids, but I was positive, it must be my leg! I was gripped with horror as I imagined what lay ahead of me. I wondered, if my body thawed, would I bleed to death (that is if I were not already dead)? Would I feel pain?
ReplyDeleteIt seemed strange that I had not felt pain or cold throughout my ordeal. I felt movement, I felt the scrapes, the impacts as my ice tomb raced violently down river, but no pain, no cold. I wanted to close my eyes, but I haven't been able to do that in months. Just then, the earth dropped from beneath me and I was falling, turning, rolling in the air. One moment I saw the sky, then the waterfall, then the trees and the horizon and then the churning water below. I braced myself for what I imagined would be a violent impact against jagged, granite mololiths which surely awaited below the churning white water below...
Suddenly I was underwater. I hadn't felt any impact. At first all I could see was the churning, white water; and then clear, dark water. Then I bobbed to the surface, face down.
The water was calm now. For a long time, I watched the bed of the river below me; the rocks in the dark water, an occasional fish or two, and every once in a while, a near miss with a large boulder which I was certain would tear my face off.
I wished I could see better, to be sure I had seen my leg. I heard the crunching sound. I am frozen solid and something broke off. I suppose staring at the river bed was better than thinking about my leg or legs or perhaps my whole lower body floating down the river. I tried not to think about the process of thawing, only to watch my guts gush out of my torso as my blood thawed.
ReplyDeleteFish began taking an interest in me. Perhaps I am dead anyway, so my lower body is irrelevant. I will literally be "food for the fishes." I don't know which would be worse, remaining where I was, watching hockey players or at least beginning to thaw, having to consider that I may be finished already. I continued to bob in the water, slowly spinning and bouncing off of rocks or the river bank. Where would I end up? What would happen to me? I tried not to think too much about it, but time was becoming short. Perhaps I would dream again tonight and perhaps it would be my last.
I slept fitfully that night. I had strange and terrifying dreams about being broken to bits against the rocks, eaten by fish, rotting on the shore as birds pecked at my eyes and entrails, or maggots feasting on my decomposing carcass. In my dreams, I could feel again. I felt pain as I was dashed against the sharp granite boulders; pain as the birds pecked at my eyes and entrails, horrible squirming and again pain as the maggots chewed my rotting corpse. Worse still, in my dream, I could smell the putrid stench of my own rotting flesh. It was a most horrifying night. The worst I’d ever experienced.
ReplyDeleteI awoke with a terrible start and found, to my astonishment that I could once again feel cold.... terrible, excruciating cold. My ice tomb had finally melted and I could feel the icy wind blowing across my body. I was free. The sky was just beginning to glow in the East, but I could not yet see anything. I tried to move, but found myself stiff and achy. I wondered if I would be frozen here, paralyzed while my body was consumed. The horror of my nightmares came flooding into my thoughts. My heart was pounding as I imagined my nightmares coming true. It was then that I realized that I was shivering. That had to be a good sign… corpses don’t shiver.
I tried again to move. This time I felt my arm move, just a little, but I’d moved! I tried again and my arm flopped limply across my belly. I was glad at least to be able to move at all after so many months encased in ice. I reasoned that it was to be expected that I would have difficulty moving after such an ordeal. I also reasoned that this whole ordeal defied reason in itself. I also hoped that I’d be able to get up and at least crawl away before something started eating me. A different kind of chill set in as I recalled the impact and seeing what looked to be at least my foot floating by. Reluctantly I tried to move my lower half, hoping it was still there. I felt my left leg move… then my right. Such great relief filled me that I laughed out loud…. Well, not loud… quite hoarsely, but I laughed somewhat audibly.
I then tried rolling over. This was no easy feat. I rocked several times, but was unable to turn over. At this point, I began shivering violently. I’d almost forgotten what cold felt like. It was reassuring to be able to feel anything at all, but now I wondered if, after everything I’d been through, I’d freeze to death in the end.
I was determined to make it. I tested all of my limbs and found that I could, with effort, move each of them. I managed to barely open and close my fists. I was able to flex my feet, though stiffly. Slowly and with difficulty, I bent my right leg out against the sand beneath me. Using my left arm, I made a great effort to push my body over onto my right side. I finally managed to roll over onto my side, but now my face was pressed into the wet sand and I could still only barely move my arms. After so many months of being frozen and unable to move at all, I’d have thought I’d have more patience now, but I had none. Every moment felt like hours. I slid my left arm up toward my face. I did the same with my right. The process was infuriatingly tedious. I tried to raise myself up, but was completely unable. I was exhausted. I closed my eyes, and was very pleased at the sensation of finally being able to close them.
I awoke again to a cold rush of water washing over my face. I bolted upright and was surprised by the strength I’d gained since my last effort. The sun was up now, and though I was still quite cold, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my back.
A short distance away, rocking back and forth in the delta, was a shoe. My heart dropped. Reluctantly I looked down to determine whether or not it was mine. To my great relief, I appeared to be completely intact. Not only that, but I was still wearing the same boots I had on when I first fell through the ice all those months ago.
ReplyDeleteThis was the day I had dreamed of for so long, although I didn't imagine it would be on a beach many miles from where I started, near my home in Canoose, Maine. I turned and looked at the rising sun, taking in the life giving, radiant heat. I hadn't been to the beach in years.
ReplyDeleteI took a look around, at the litter on the beach and the tide washing in and out and began walking back to civilization, anxious to get home. I found my wallet intact enough that my credit card was still good. I put it to good use.
The bus was smelly and the people ugly. At the nearest stop, I walked home at a brisk pace. Standing in front of my home, I was so glad to be back I nearly burst. My life was back, as if I had been resurrected. This was the warmer day I had dreamed of! I was nearly bursting with relief and anticipation. I walked quickly and then ran to the front door, anxious to see if my key still worked. It did, and I ran to take a hot bath and get back to watching television.
Later that winter, I often took breaks from watching television to watch the hockey players, boys being boys, an occasional girl watching her boy, the clouds float by, part or dissipate and the sun rise and set. Life was back to normal.
Nice!
ReplyDelete