Most of you that know me, know by now that I decided to face my fears and begin the journey toward health around the first part of June. Not that I've been sick. All my life I have been a very healthy person. Some would say my mental health was in question, but not I. Of course not. *wink *wink. But with doctors orders and strong encouragement from my girls, I finally faced the fear of being alone while simply walking down a lonely, empty, street.
The last couple of mornings the temps have been in the low-mid 40's. Soooooo awesome!!! Especially if you are one that takes early morning walks every day. The summer temps were challenging, to say the least, but I never deny a challenge, so walk I did. Which made these Fall temps embraced without resistance.
Today, as my legs began to feel numb, and my toes felt as if they were freezing together, I was reminded of a time that was so very long ago. It was during my childhood years when we were outside much of the morning hours AND early evening hours during the winter months, tending to the herd of cows, horses, and pigs. Mom, and a couple of my sisters tended to the chickens and the 2 dogs, along with all the house hold chores. I was so envious of them, since they were allowed time with mom and the types of chores she tended to. I did get to spend a little time with her during the summer days, by helping plant and harvest a very large garden full of everything needed to sustain life, and we gathered eggs after feeding the chickens, and slopping the pigs, while my brothers tended to the hay field and helped out at the sawmill. Most of my time, however, was spent helping dad and doing chores that I felt were meant for humans much stronger than myself. As I got a bit older, like maybe 9 or 10, my mind didn't change about that. That was when I "got" to go to the sawmill and either doodle sawdust or tend to the cut-off lumber pile. Some days, I even went to the log woods to help fell trees and get them loaded onto the back of our flatbed trailer. Maybe that is why my upper torso is so solid with large biceps and a thick chest cavity.
During the winter months, I would wear 3 pair of jeans (one over the other) and 3 pair of socks that helped my feet not only fill oversized shoes, but also kept frostbite away. Protection was needed for the hours we had to spend in the cold weather that a small person should never have been required to (just my opinion...probably Mom's too). But we did survive. All of us. Even though I'm pretty sure there were times we wondered if we would.
One of the things I remember, as if it were yesterday, was when we finally made it back to the house and began the thawing out process. We had a large pot bellied wood stove that stood in the living room, meant to heat the whole house. It didn't, but at least we were out of the elements. My memory is the pain I felt while getting out of my boots shoes, and socks so that I could warm up next to the fire. Once the attire was removed, my stiff, frozen feet slid ever so gently next to the stove. My toes (all of them) were always so cold they were stuck together. The pain was significant as they thawed. It hurt so very much, but as the blood began to circulate to the tips, the pain became bearable until it was completely gone. That was my memory today as I walked in 42 degree weather, which is much warmer than my barnyard days. Still, it caused the memory of just how much worse it could be.
Filtering through memories, here you will find me...in Mary's World
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