When I Fell Through Ice

Spending New Years at Aunt Lorna's cottage has been tradition for several years now.  It's a winterized cottage on a reasonably secluded lake, complete with sauna and outdoor hot tub.  A dozen or so of our friend's gather here each year and have a pseudo-quiet weekend of board games, movies, fancy-pants meals, shooting pop cans with bb-guns, kitchen dance parties and scary midnight ice walks. 

I'm sure most of my friends make no bones about it, but in truth, the ice walks terrify me. What otherwise could be portrayed as a romantic starlit walk is more of a battle of bravery and determination for me. I internally obsess over the depth of freezing cold water beneath us. Every step is marked with a crunch of snow, and every few feet we progress lets out a moan of cracking ice. I pray nearly the whole way.  But each year I go along for the stroll, perhaps just to renew a healthy sense of respect for nature into my soul.

In 2008 Laurie, Justin and I went for a walk on the ice just after sunset. Instead of venturing off to the other side of the lake, we opted to stick closer to the cottage. Not far from the cottage, the ice suddenly gave way and swallowed my entire right leg. I screamed and yelled "help me!" as my best friend ran off to the shore. I'll forgive her since she was two months pregnant at the time. Luckily her husband wasn't a jerk and pulled me out before the lake decided to finish me off.

My leg was soaked and nearly frozen through by the time we got back to the cottage. I threw open the front door to announce to our friends that I had just stared death in the eye...but I barely interrupted the intense domino game growing on the dinning room table. No one was particularly impressed other to impart a quick science lesson on me: "Didn't you know ice is thinner near the shore?"

My friends are jerks. Except Justin.  We're still cool.