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My thoughts released; a mind set free |
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These pages contain my thoughts, from meandering ideas and persuasions to deep cerebrations and serious mentations. Why, for what purpose? To release my mind and set creativity free. Somewhere inside the constraints of my mind dwells a writer, a poet, an artist who paints with words. In here I release those constraints and set the artist free. Perhaps, lost somewhere in the depths of thought, is a story or a poem, waiting to be written. 
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| This song reminds me of years past when we would travel to my Grandma’s for Christmas. It was about a six-hour drive depending on road conditions. We lived in northern Minnesota, and she was in South Dakota. Most years the drive was good, the roads clear, and the weather nice; cold, but nice. One year, however, we had very little snow and she had none. Before we left, Mom called her to let her know we were leaving. Grandma informed her that there was no snow, it was going to be a brown Christmas. I remember after Mom hung up, she turned to Dad, “Ella started to cry because there’s no snow.” “There’s still three days till Christmas, I’m sure she’ll have snow by Christmas morning.” Mom told us kids to join hands and say a prayer. “Father, we ask, you see us safely to South Dakota, and could we please have a white Christmas?” The weather was a bit windy and damp, with snow forecast for later that evening. But we had an early start and should have missed out on any inclement weather. However, when we crossed into North Dakota, the snow started; heavy snow with gusting winds blowing it around. As we headed south, our speed continuously decreased as a result of slippery, snow-covered roads, and very limited visibility. Dad pushed on and soon we reached the sign that read, Welcome to South Dakota. In fact, we almost took out the sign as we slid sideways and then backwards into the ditch. The song, White Christmas, was playing on the radio! Nobody was injured, but the car was stuck, and we were miles from any town. Luckily a trucker came along and Dad was able to flag him down. He had a strap long enough to reach us and pull us out. Before we got back on the road, Dad gave the driver twenty dollars for helping us but he wouldn’t take it. While Dad was trying to pay him, a snowplow went by. We followed it all the way to the town Grandma lived in. Whenever I hear the song, I remember our “White Christmas”. |
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