#153 Parting Gifts

by Vista K. McCroskey

The water was almost unbearably cold in the blue winter sunlight. The jagged ice scraped sharply against my arms as I battled exhaustion. This was horribly wrong.

The day had started with the usual routine—alarm, coffee, toothbrush, clothes, messages, and car. Nothing appeared strange, but everything was different. Somehow, you never know when it will all change, how or why it will end. It just does.

I had driven along the river road for just a couple of miles when the accident occurred. Now, having followed the injured dog out onto the ice, I needed help. My voice, however, completely failed me.

Things had been going so well recently. For years, I had staggered along a precipice of chaotic depression, barely clinging to the notion of eventual recovery, before emerging into my blissful life as a children’s art teacher. At last, after so many struggles, I was making others happy, too. Someone would remember me.

Strangely enough, as I surrendered to the icy water, none of that mattered. The passionate beauty of the world embraced me. I became powerfully aware of the brilliant morning sky, the frozen lake, and the naked landscape. Reflections danced all around in the winter dawn. Perfect hues of white, blue, gold, and rose were audible in their intensity. Suddenly, my soul possessed the warmth and light of the sun on the snow, and, with gratitude for having lived at all, I simply let go.