In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Under the Snow.”
If I were buried under snow I would remember Caitlin-my wife. I would whisper her name and talk to myself about how she would be with the loss of her loved one. She would be my focus for awhile, but then after her I’d remember how all things have a purpose. Maybe I am meant to suffer this tragedy for some sort of personal physical/mental growth? Perhaps this test of endurance entails me having a near death experience that entails wisdom? These thoughts would be the words on my lips as I lay cold, hurt, and wishful. My last idea of words of strength would be the most human of them all-profanity. What’s near death without sailor talk just to curse the situation and perhaps empower myself even if only for 10 more seconds? After all, I’ve gotta make it through the night somehow.