Disclaimer: I've been trying to think of a personal blog or a story of the self to share one here like I'm supposed to, but I am trying desperately to avoid myself these days. At least the inner workings of my brains. Confessional poetry and story writing the self is definitely not where I wanna be right at the moment. I also don't want my personal stuff or stories of myself out there for just anyone to read. If this were a private class discussion board rather than a world wide blog site, I would have an easier time opening up. My stories of me and personal stuff is for me and my friends, not for some stranger.
Having said that, I am reminded of something I told my best friend today. You have to look at it from a different angle and then it doesn't seem so bad. I hate it when my own advise bites me in the ass. So I ask myself how do I look at this another way? I could see it as therapeutic, a way to get things off my chest as it were. I could see sharing my stories as a way to help others who maybe are going through the same thing. Maybe my words could encourage someone. On that note, I am going to have to find something to share with the world. I suppose I will start small, with something not too close, but still a story of me.
I loved those mittens. My mom made them for me. Sturdy fire engine red yarn crocheted to fit snug around all my digits. Even when they were soaking in icy water from playing in the snow, my hands stayed warm. I was sure my mom was magic and had put a warming spell on them. I was grateful for that today, I had big plans.
Clad in my mommy made mittens and one piece snow suit, I lurched myself onto my sled. My cousin Kevin jumped in behind me, while my sister Katie and Kevin's brother John watched us prepare for our slide. It was exciting sliding down this hill. The end of the hill marked the beginning of a cliff perched above the Atlantic ocean. The only thing between us and it was a chain link fence that was cemented to the ground. Each point of the end links was submerged in the hard concrete, rendering it very sturdy. The trick was that when you got to the fence you stop yourself by slamming your feet onto the crossbar of the fence.
So there we were ready for our dive down the snowy adventurous terrain.
"You ready Kev?"
I pushed off with my red mitted hands and we began our decent. Wind from the sea pummeled my face. Snowflakes felt like little knives poking my cheeks and we sped by. It was a short run but very fast. As we approached the bottom I lifted my legs to get my feet positioned for the knee killing stop. As soon as my feet hit the fence I knew something went wrong.
My feet had not hit the solidness of the cross bar but rather the springy chain link. My plummet was not arrested as I thought it would be, instead my feet broke through under the fence. Kevin jumped off and I could hear panicked footfalls coming down the hill. I frantically reached for the fence in front of me, but my red super mittens wouldn't allow my fingers to grip the chain link.
Under I went, finally stopping when the points of the fence gouged my chest. I pushed on the crossbar but couldn't get free.
"John go get Auntie Terri." My sisters voice sounded miles away. John ran screaming into the house.
"Auntie Terri, Kris is gonna die!" Terror griped me as my fingers kept sliding in futile attempts to grasp the fence. I felt the snow give way a little and began to slip farther. My sister grabbed my hand and Kevin grabbed the sled. They pulled and pulled trying to get me out. I heard the back door of the house slam open and my mother yell my name. Just as she was about to reach me Katie pulled me free from the fence. I clutched her like a drowning man holds a log.
As soon as I had my feet back under me instead of flailing off the cliff, I ripped my favorite red mittens from my hands and announced that I would never wear them or any other mitten again. And so I haven't, to this day. I tried a couple years ago, but my chest closed up and I panicked just sliding them on in the store.