Walking On Ice

The thin layer of ice on the pond glinted and beckoned with its alluring blue glint. I knew the ice wasnÆt strong enough to hold me, but I still wanted to walk on it that one last time. The disease had been terminal for a while; I was riddled with it, my bloodstream infested with clusters of immature granulocytes like waste bobbing in the clean liquid ribbon of a river. And now, every step I walked, every breath I took, reminded me of just how fragile my life was; how it could so easily crumble. I placed a shoe cautiously on the edge of the pond. It did not give way, so I began walking on top of it, the clean air whipping my sunken cheeks. I should have been more vigilant, for I did not notice when the ice began slowly rippling below my feet, spreading into a web of broken crystals. I looked down and realised that the surface of the pond had broke. It was the last thing I saw before I was in the water, the ice engulfing me. I wanted to swim; in my last life, I had been a swimmer, a runner, an athlete. But now I was a cancer fighter, a defier of death. I was too weak and my arms and legs were too fragile. They flailed helplessly in the water, creating splashes of white that cut through the crisp winter air like fountains spraying against a canvas of endless blue sky. I was freezing, soaked to the bone. I struggled but I couldnÆt breathe. I tried calling but my throat was swelled shut. I realised I wasnÆt scared of death any more, only what I would lose. So instead, I counted my memories. That time when Josh melted CrÞme eggs and brought the pan to my room, because I wanted to have a final taste of Easter. That time when Mum sat beside me all night, sponging my forehead, telling me it was all going to be OK. That time during remission when I ran my very last race. The triumph of reaching the finishing line first; the victorious thrill of winning as I collected my trophy. That time when we sat by the beach and lit a bonfire and toasted marshmallows on top of the spitting flames. Sitting beside it and feeling warmed through to the soul. The human instinct to struggle broke through again and I found myself gasping for breath. My throat constricted, and my nose swelled with pond water. I started holding my breath and allowed myself to drift with the gentle current. ThereÆs sun in my pocket and rain in my sleeve and rainbows in my vision. There is powdery snow drifting lazily from the vivid blue sky and trees that are an intense red and the musty taste of summer and spring dancing in the air and ice cream dripping down my arm. I am walking on ice, a spirit, impossibly light; running again, alive again, peaceful again.

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