I am so thirsty; I am so nauseous. This drought is more than I can bear. I am tired of deceiving myself, deceiving you. I hope for a 40 day flood, a flood to fill the valley, and I will hope someone throws me a life preserver so I can doggy paddle over to the mountain top. I know better than to try the breaststroke, because every time I try it, I sink like I’ve a millstone about my neck.
But what will I do should that flood come and I reach the mountain? I’ve been there before only to lose my footing.
Oh there I go lying again. Truthfully, the snow was just so pure, I grabbed a sled to enjoy the rush down, but how I wish I hadn’t. How I long to be back, but my body, my body betrays me.