Sunday, January 06, 2013

snow angels: my daily can of whoop ass

Snow Angel

It’s easy to make one,
lying on your back
in the newest snow.

You sweep your arms
up and down to make
a pattern that looks like wings.

Later you forget your creation,
go inside for some hot chocolate.
That’s when she rises from the snow,

takes a feathery breath, tries her wings.
She skims over frozen lakes
like the faintest handwriting.

Later when you climb beneath the covers,
she peers in through your frosty window,
happy you called her into the world.


I went for a walk yesterday afternoon when the sun was perfect for a snow angel picture. I walked by many yards with undisturbed snow and I was so tempted to flop down and make one, but I was sure that I would be seen and medical authorities would be called before I could make my escape.

When I got home, there was a nice spot on the boulevard so I went to work. Sure enough, the neighbors across the street walk out their front door and the neighbors to the north pull into their driveway. Jan rolled down the window and asked it they should call 911. I said no, I'm making a snow angel.

Maybe I should do this after dark. People would wake up, look out the front window, and there would be a perfect snow angel.


Hannah and Miles make snow angels. Thanks, Jill, for sending the poem and the picture!

While reading about snow angels, I found the world record for most snow angels made at one time. February 14, 2011 — Nova Scotians are confident they have broken the Guinness World Record for making the most snow angels in different places at once.

The article says the event proved to be more of an uplifting experience than anticipated. “From what people have told me, the exact moment the kids all fell back, it was a really emotional experience for those watching.”

Which proves my theory. Making snow angels is good for you. It's like an emotional can of whoop ass for the bad shit that happens. Make snow angels instead of reading the news. Make snow angels instead of dusting and sweeping. Make snow angels instead of thinking about cancer. And a place where schools take the time to organize snow angel events instead of standardized testing sessions? Heaven.



I have my next chemotherapy treatment on Thursday. Adriamycin and Cytoxan. My chemical cocktail for the day. A friend of mine asked me yesterday, how will they know it's working? That stopped me for a second. How will they know it's working?

I almost wish (not really) that I had some side effects because side effects would be a reminder of the fact of cancer being a part of my life. The way it is, some days I can forget I have cancer. This is a good thing except that it makes the moment when I realize, again, that I do, more of a smackdown that it would be if cancer was hanging around in the front of my brain all the time. 

I feel like I am coming up on the top of the roller coaster again and Thursday morning will be the crest...looking at the down hill screaming side. That's my reminder that I have cancer...going to the Cancer Center, getting blood drawn, meeting with the research nurse and the oncologist, sitting in a room full of other cancer patients many of whom look tired and sick, having a nurse come at me with bag after bag of toxic shit. And I know it's toxic because they look like this:


That's why I need the snow angel whoop ass...to fight off the open can of fuck.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I could get down to make a snow angel but I'm not sure I could get back up! I might be there for hours just waiting for someone to rescue me.
Old neighbor and friend Deb

Jill said...

There were quite a few snow angels in our yard last week made by the little kids. They loved to do it, and invariably ended up rolling around in the snow.

When I was teaching lang. arts methods, we'd read some snow angel poems in early February for a particular lesson with the intention of going outside to make our own angels. Because of no snow (often) or howling winds, or 20 below zero, and even pouring rain once, we'd often have to make them on the floor in the classroom instead. Invisible snow angels, but snow angels nonetheless.

Caroline said...

I love the pictue of of the rows of snow angels. Check your email!