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“The Red Sled”

Annie and I were going to surprise Dana for Christmas. This had been an on-going plan for four decades—it never quite worked out. Living in different states; physically, emotionally, and economically, had always made it too difficult to get together at this time of year. Now that I was diagnosed with my second case of breast cancer, I thought it might be a good time to give "the plan" a herculean effort.

My first bout with breast cancer turned out well. The only reminder of those days spent in radiation-terror, were a few scars and a reduced bra-cup. Ten years later however, my options were much more limited. I didn’t plan on telling her right away. I thought I would wait until after the holidays. Right now I just felt a child-like need to be close to my sister, and experience all those same sights and smells and sounds, that kept my spirit alive so many years ago.

My dog Annie was sitting shot-gun, strapped into her seat-belt. I couldn't help smiling every time I looked to my right and noticed her eyes flitting around - watching the fast-flying scenery - as intently as any bird dog might, right before going into 'point'. She and I had split a Slim Jim and a bag of Cheetos at our last gas stop. She still had Cheeto-crumbs stuck to her whiskers, and her big smile exposed an orange-coated tongue.

Annie had just quit flinching at the ‘splatting’ noises of the huge, slushy, snow-blobs a few miles back - now she was having fun. We were doing our best to beat the blizzard conditions developing up ahead. Annie thought we were in hot pursuit of 'snow-blob-birds'; delighting at their demise upon the curve of the protective bubble she was flying in.

My two-year old, black retriever-mix was a shy girl; snagged from the Pound on the very day she was scheduled to be euthanized. She had been abandoned, and it took over a year to regain the trust she'd lost for humans. Now our bond was solid, and she meant more to me than most people would understand. I was hoping her Auntie Dana would be so busy fussing over me at the door, that she wouldn't pay much attention to the seventy-five pound lap dog hiding behind me as we made our entrance. Annie would then simply saunter into the kitchen (on cue), while Dana and I were finishing up some little powdered-sugar detail, and I could introduce them. That was our plan.

Actually - being childless - Dana had always treated my dog-children as if they were just as special as her human nieces and nephews. Through the years she had always included carefully wrapped presents for each of them, in her much-loved Christmas boxes that were stuffed to the brim with baked goodies (ETA...last second--FED EX--Christmas Eve). Annie was wearing her 'special occasion', pink-rhinestone collar now. She looked stunning! I had spent more time packing her suitcase, than I had my own. It included such things as; light-up reindeer antlers (always a big hit at family gatherings, I imagined), her brush, and a hedge-hog named "Hog", who's cotton innards were savagely ripped from his gut within an hour of receiving it last year. (Having submitted to her superior position in the pack, crusty old "Hog" became her confidant and trusted friend). Annie's shiny suitcase matched her collar...pink…studded with rhinestones.

The sky was rapidly developing into the ominous-gray, only a seasoned mid-westerner can identify as both: extremely exciting and dangerous at the same time. The wet snow had taken on an airier form as the temperatures began to drop. This made driving treacherous, as the frozen slush created patches of black-ice; hidden beneath the fresh swirls of dry snow. I decided to pull off the highway, when the snow in my head-lights, started messing with my INA (internal navigating system), creating a hypnotic-like trance. I knew this maneuver was dangerous--my mind flashed on to a macabre, 'action-flick' scene, with cars careening into me from every direction--turning the serene white peace, into a blood-bath with twisted metal...shards of glass littering the road for miles, and the "Jaws of Life" unable to distract me in one piece. (Obviously, I could has chosen a better time to ween off my Valium).

As it so happened...most of the traffic had pulled off to the side, hoping this would pass. Having lived in this part of the country in a former life...I knew it wasn’t going to pass any time soon.

I had just left Wyoming behind me, when I shot past my I29 S exit, which would have taken me through Sioux City and on to Lawton. I was feeling more confident now, as I kicked-in my four-wheel drive option. I whipped back out on the highway, and we were back on the hunt; chasing snow-flakes, and looking for that lost exit of ours.

I drove for half an hour, and was sure I’d overshot the exit sign again. Annie was starting to get hungry, and the progressing darkness was beginning to make driving even more of a challenge. Frustrated and tired, I turned onto the first rural road I noticed, that had lights in the distance — hoping we’d find a small hamburger joint. (Annie thought hamburgers were the world’s way of thanking dogs for being so cute). The distant lights turned out to be an old silo. I was guessing we were a zillion miles from any form of civilization, when I jerked the wheel around, and slammed my foot on the gas. I didn’t see the ditch ahead.

My first panicked thought as we plunged head-long off the road, was that Annie wouldn’t get her hamburger. I heard a loud whimper from my right - then everything went black.

I woke up with my body wedged against the steering wheel. My seat-belt saved me from a head long encounter with the windshield. The back of my head hurt, but everything else seemed fine.

From what I could see, we were nose-down in a huge drainage ditch—filled with yesterday’s plowed snow. I regained my wits and looked to my right. My whole world went black again. Annie was twisted at an unlikely angle, as she dangled from her seat-belt; toes touching the dash. Her little orange, lolling-tongue was still hanging from her mouth, but the smile had disappeared. I reached over and turned her head toward me. Her brown eyes were full of pain, but there weren’t any visible signs of blood. I worked to release myself, and felt blood flowing from the back of my head. The collar of my coat was drenched, but it didn’t hurt much, so I started working to release Annie. My work area was small.

As gently as I could…I eased her into a lying position--on her side--on the cold windshield. The car was almost completely submerged and the doors wouldn’t budge. The heater wasn’t running, and one attempt at the windows told me the electrical system was shot. I was the last human hold-out to the 'cell-phone conspiracy', so I didn't own one. All this added up to one thing: We would freeze to death if nobody came out on this road over the long Christmas weekend.

Everything from the back seat had found it’s way up front. My circulation had always been terrible, so my feet and legs were already starting to freeze. I gave God a little "thank you" for reminding me to throw a small lap rug in the car before taking off. I slipped this under my cramped body, and lifted Annie's head just enough to cushion her from the hard, cold glass. I dug around in the glove-box and found a diminished roll of paper-towels. I flattened that, and slid it under her rump. Every movement made her whimper. I felt a gnawing, helplessness when I looked at her.

It's ironic; the things that pop into a muddled-mind - a mind that should be dealing with matters so closely tied to life and death. In this case; I found myself wandering off to a winter in New York, when I was eleven and Dana was twelve...

Someone had given us a bright red sled for Christmas. It was leaning against the wooden steps to our trailer; that one Christmas we spent in Cornwall. My Step-Father had just been shipped-off to Viet Nam...it hadn't come from him. We all thought this was probably a gift from my Mother’s secret, new boyfriend. A bright red bow tied neatly and professionally around the front rudder, told us this was a gift from someone 'special'. My mother was never home anymore, and she missed that Christmas altogether. Our wild imaginations concluded that her new love was 'Italian Mafia', and perhaps he was holding her hostage. The sled could have been from her, but we didn’t have that kind of money. Mysterious 'Mafia' people did.

I don't remember opening any other presents that year. I did remember our haste in dressing, as the four of us scrambled to try out the new red sled in our first snow. There were sleigh-bells tied to the back, and every time we flew down a hill, the bells echoed. I also remember being the only one of four kids who’s wet and frozen carcass had to be dragged home, every time we took the sled out. Dana always felt sorry for me, and as much fun as she might have been having--when I’d start to whine--she’d drag me home.

We were a sorry looking gaggle of four poorly-equipped transplants from California; with one sled. But despite the agony of freezing fingers and frost-bitten toes, the snow remained a novelty for the entire winter we were there. Dana never once complained about dragging me home; sleigh-bells ringing all the way.

The days leading up to that Christmas were spent trying to stay warm in our rusty, fifty-two foot trailer with one small space-heater. Food seemed like a luxury, and a box of "Krapt" macaroni and cheese made up our Christmas feast. We had spoonfuls of sugar for dessert. Dana and I took turns scaling the side of the trailer to adjust the antenna, so the four of us could watch “Rudolf” and “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, in something other than black and white static. We all cuddled together on the couch and tried to pretend this was what all normal children did this time of year. We also walked Bobbi and Ricky around the rest of the trailer park every night. We'd gaze through the windows at the beautifully decorated trees with flashing lights and mounds of presents. I don't remember ever feeling sad about any of this back then. Kids have a way of delighting in almost any situation. The memories even made me feel warm now.

I'm pretty sure it was that same 'mystery-sled' person,

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