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December 13, 2005

little wheels

I watched him slide down the hill on his back. He did not even have a sled. He was wearing a snowmobile suit and he would lay down on his back with his head pointing down the hill. With his feet pointing straight up at the clear blue sky, he would give a loud shriek and push himself off with his hands. All the way down, he would howl with glee as his body bobbed back and forth between the edges of the rut in the fresh new snow. Down the steep hill he would go with abandonment blindly dodging pine trees and picking up speed. His body zoomed faster and faster until he was nothing more than a tiny little speck at the bottom. Then he would lay there spread eagle with his eyes closed waiting for the rush of blood to settle back to his lower body.

He must have repeated this dance at least a dozen times until I could not stand the cold any longer. My feet were becoming numb and tingling. How could he stand it? I wandered back to sit by the fire pit and warmed myself in front of the crackling fire.

Posted by roadapples at December 13, 2005 09:55 PM