The Life

The wind blows through the trees and ice crackles on the branches – falling, striking the ground and breaking. The sound is a mix of rainfall on leaves and the hush of snow. Just a few hours before, we gazed out at the bright landscape covered in a mantle of white. Now, as the darkness shrouds the countryside, the weather warms just enough to turn the fast-falling snow to ice water. Soon cars start to slide on the black pavement, taillights showing up in sporadic flashes. ‘Lisabeth ducks behind me as another car passes, braking as it comes over the crest of the hill. She fancies it’s a dragon and I’m a brave knight – pity that the garbage can I’m pushing isn’t a war horse – but I’m content. It’s the day before Christmas Eve and I comment the fact to Anna. “Don’t garbage men get the day off?” She doesn’t think so and accompanies me on the trip out to the road, recycling in hand. It’s still icy, it’s still raining, we’re still cold, she’s still 10, it’s still fun. We’re on the farm. It’s a hard-packing dream life, a nitty-gritty get-the-job done life – and I love it. I don’t mind the small house, don’t mind the failing water system, don’t mind the struggle. It’s home. Tomorrow when I wake up the snow world is going to be covered with sparkling crystal ice, looking even more clear and alive then it did before. Ah, life without the struggles wouldn’t be a life worth living, because we wouldn’t be able to see the sparkle in things. We’ve just got to keep on looking.