Day 6 – Five Things You Can’t Live Without

Day 6 - Five Things You Can't Live Without 1-25-13

Five Things You Can’t Live Without

  1. Chapstick.  I admit it, I’m an addict.  They say if you don’t ever start using it, you won’t need it, but once you start, you can’t stop because your body gets addicted to it.  Dunno if that’s true, but I can’t go more than a few hours without chapsticking it up.
  2. Showers.  Pretty sure I’d go insane if I couldn’t take a shower at least every other day.  Preferably every single day.
  3. A computer.  Seriously, I hate handwriting stuff, it’s so time-consuming and tiring and imperfect and ick!  I like the idea of it, but in practice, no.  Just no.  I don’t understand how people wrote books by hand.  Editing must have been a nightmare.
  4. Cold weather.  I know it sounds nuts, but honestly, if I was condemned to live in the Sahara for the rest of my life, I’d rather die.  I hate heat and the sun and I NEED my cold, overcast, rainy, snowy weather!  Frozen
  5. Water.  Literally and figuratively, I need me mah watah, man!!!
  6. Love.  It truly has kept me alive…without it, I’m quite sure I’d have killed myself.  I realized today that love is stronger than even hope.  I can live without hope, and I have.  But I can’t live without love.

Daddy’s!

Five Things You Can’t Live Without

  1. My Baby. I suppose my heart would keep beating, my lungs would keep breathing, my kidneys would keep kidneying (filtering waste out of the filtrate in order to send the cleansed blood back into the system and the waste into the urinary duct), and so on… But I no wanna. I don’t WANT to live without her.
  2. My truck. Again, it’s true that maybe I wouldn’t DIE without a vehicle, but I would lose more of the precious freedom I so highly value, and I don’t want that either.
  3. My computer. I’ve spent a few days recently where I didn’t have access to my computer, and I hated it. Heck, internet qualifies too. Though in that regard I can actually occupy myself with other things, and I suppose eventually I’d learn to live without it, but… Yeah, that’d stuck hairy balls. And sucking hairy balls sounds mucho not-fun.
  4. A little more on the serious side… people. Specifically friends, but people in general. I’m a social person, so the WORST punishments I can think of are things like solitary confinement and the silent treatment. I may not physically die, but mentally and emotionally I would fall to PIECES and go stark raving mad without social interaction.
  5. Air. Pretty sure I need air to live. Specifically oxygen, but not pure oxygen, cuz that’s actually really bad for you. Even scuba divers don’t breath pure oxygen. So air is good. I can’t live without air.

The Sledding Hill

I remember being woken up in the middle of the night, when it snowed.  Everything outside my window would be blue and shimmery.

We’d stumble downstairs and dig into the coat closet underneath the stairs, rummaging around for the basket full of snow clothes.  Snoopy hats and thick gloves that were too big for me…  Several layers of clothes, and hiking boots that were big enough to be my brother’s.  Fuzzy pink earmuffs.  And off we’d go, into the snowy night.

Sometimes it was windy and cold, other times just quiet and still.  Our sleds scraped over the fresh snow behind us.  We’d tied ropes through the front so we could pull them.  Mine was pink and my brother’s was orange.  Snowball, our Samoyed mix dog, would thunder around us, kicking up snow and chasing out sleeping rabbits from under the bushes.

We’d follow dad up the road, past my best friend’s house, and all the way to the main street where we’d fight past our heavy snow clothes and climb onto the wall made of stone and brick.  Then we’d carefully march up and down the steps of the wall, over the big humps of the posts, and on, the frigid air tingling in our noses.  Whoever went first was lucky, because they got to shove off the piles of fresh snow from the fence posts.  Early on, I was so small I had to sit on the posts and spin around to get over them.  When I was older, I could step up onto them, or over them.

Sometimes we could see the stars, but sometimes it was still snowing and there were huge clouds covering everything.  Dad would help us off the wall before we reached the ditch where the cow skeletons were, and we’d start on the long trudge up the sledding hill.  It was all covered in weeds, and even cactus here and there, but it would snow so much, you didn’t really notice.  It took so long to climb up the hill, but when you reached the top, the air was so crisp and you had such a long way to sled down the hill, it was all worth it.

Sometimes I’d be scared, looking straight down that huge hill all the way to the bottom, or be afraid I might slide all the way into the ditch.  But I never did.  Sometimes dad would sit behind me, or push me so I’d go fast.  Sometimes my brother would go with me, and sometimes we would race each other.  Snowball would run along beside us, trying to climb into our sleds on the way down.  We’d laugh and scream and our voices were the only sound in that huge empty field.

It was fun sliding down the hill but took so long and it was so hard climbing all the way back up again.  My boots would slip in the snow and so I would try to walk in dad’s footprints, but they were always too big for me to reach.  But up I’d climb, over and over, until we couldn’t breathe from the cold and our noses were red and our toes were numb.

Then we’d climb back up on the wall and make the trek back home, where Mom would always be waiting for us to tell her how much fun we had sledding, while we drank hot chocolate and tried to warm up.  Then we would finally curl up warm and tight in our beds again and fall asleep, waking up the next morning to a beautiful white world.

Several years later, bulldozers leveled my sledding hill flat and built a school where it should have been.  But every time I drive down that road and look at the wall, I remember walking on it through the snow in the dark, and smile.  I will never forget the sledding hill.