Follow by Email

Saturday, March 6, 2010

I watched from my sun room as my dog attempted to climb over the wall of snow we had piled in a semi-circle outside our door. The idea worked wonderfully keeping her contained to a specific area for her duties. That is until now, as the snow began to melt I noticed our wall also lessened in size. The sun shining bright in the sky, beaming down on the remains of winter. I watched as our dog Share romped around. Her tiny body finally free, to venture farther out into the yard.

As I sat looking, memories surfaced of a time when my two youngest Josiah and Cody would roam through paths. Paths, that I would shovel for them through out the yard. Making our yard into a gigantic maze allowing them to be able to freely stroll to the far ends of our dwelling. I could not recall any time when walking in snow was not difficult for my sons. My back would ache for days, but the joy we shared would out way the pain. I remember creating dead ends to make it a challenge for them to find the correct walkway that would get them to their desired destination. Laughing Cody would lead, with Josiah following, exploring along the journey the different shapes they would pass. The snow figures that my eldest son Zach would help me create brought joy to their eyes. With snow I piled up from shoveling, we would sculpt creatures large enough to sit my little ones on. We would spend hours playing, walking climbing. Coming in only when our feet and hands would become to cold to last another second outside.

Looking out the windows of my sun room, I found myself missing those days. How precious they were. The yard now resembling a blank white canvas. Except for the occasional animal foot prints sprinkled across the open space it showed no sign of any visitors. Thankful to have my memories I smiled. Yes, I had the photos to remind me and my sons of a time when we did not use chairs with wheels. A time when falling was not the constant reminder of what was coming ahead. Standing there I ached for just a mere second of seeing Cody walk again.

I offered to create paths for my Josiah as the first heavy snow fall surrounded us this season. Josiah smiled and just told me he wanted to help shovel the driveway for Cody. We did shovel together. Cody always had a clear path for his power chair. It was a struggle for Josiah to push the child size shovel along the driveway. He worked so diligently at my side making it clear for his older brother.

My boys did not need boots this winter, for they no longer walked on snowy grounds. Where ever they went snow was neatly removed. Snow pants also played no role in our winter wardrobe this year. I was now beginning to see grass peeking out from beneath the seasons white blanket. I listened as birds chirped in the distance. Winter was now leaving us once again. The memories of playing outside on those beautiful winter days will always bring me to a place that can make me smile and feel good. On the days where despair attempts to invade my world I will turn to these memories for my strength.

1 comment:

  1. yeah its sad watching them able to do less and less. when one door closes others open. my son just learnt to ride a bike when he couldn't do it anymore. we made a trailer that attached to a normal bike, he loved it. what i am trying to say (badly) is you have to will always have the memories and they will do other things that make them happy. don't lose hope, there will be a cure.