Kicking the Ice

I kick the ice chunk while walking on the 3rd street Bridge. I do this while not ignoring the fact that I am probably too old for such undertakings. "What do they think of me?" I wonder as I look up from my next retrieval challenge. I've gotten my precious ice formation stuck in between a snow pile and the edge of the bridge itself. The object of my projection is dangerously close to falling into the Mississippi, so I need to concentrate. I slowly slide my foot over my ice chunk and coerce it out of its position. I resume my kicking/walking as well as my thought process. Cars whisk by me and I realize that I really haven't given them much thought before (other than to recognize their substandard driving abilities, of course). Today is different. For a moment, feeling a little narcissistic, I suddenly become aware of their existence only as it relates to me; or more accurately their opinion of me. Specifically, what they would theorize about an almost forty year old woman playing kicking an ice chunk across the bridge. This thought process does not interrupt my goal of keeping my companion with me until I reach my car. I notice that people who walk past me appear annoyed. I hear a sigh to my left so I stop to let the good man walk by without being an obstruction and to try to alleviate his fear of being kicked accidentally. I give him a few paces before I proceed with my punting. I do so gently as to not cause injury. I figure that he is most be concerned for his safety because he cautiously looks behind him a few times. I smile in vain to try to reassure him that I have no ill intent. This doesn't seem to appease him. He continues to look from me to the ice chunk back to me. His disapproval is obvious by the frown on his brow and his disappearing, thin lips. He speeds up. I say, "Screw you" under my breath and continue onward determined in my mission. I pause and look at the Mississippi gently racing southward. It is fascinating to watch this river. It is always different, yet every morning and every night it appears as if is the same. The same two trees have been lodged together in one of the mini-dams refusing to move for almost three months. Sometimes some debris gets caught in between the branches, but for the most part, those two trees are always there as if simply to defy the strong currents. "Why don't they let go?" I wonder. "What keeps them affixed to the same place interlocked together day in and day out?" You'd think the currents would be strong enough to push them and dislodge them. I see that today a couple of birds are resting on the highest branches. I think on how brave they are to stand there in such a precarious position. I believe animals can read minds so I congratulate their valor.

It's time to move on.

I locate my intimate and give it a good kick. Oops. I hit it too hard and it lost a piece of itself when it made contact with the side of the wall. I make a mental note to be gentler. This time I gently push it instead of punting. I proceed the rest of the way guiding it across with me. I laugh each time I recover it from a near miss and sure demise. No matter how hard I try to be gentle, it is continually loosing integrity. By the time I reach the end of the bridge, it is one-third its original size. My car is only a block away now. I'm a little saddened. I will have to leave what is left of my new friend to face the elements. I'm amazed at the strength and perseverance of my little ice buddy. I ponder its ability to survive the night should I decide to leave it in a place where I could find it in the morning. I ignore the strange looks I'm getting from passers by as I push the remaining iced mass across the busy intersection. I can see in the faces of the waiting drivers that they are not entirely keen on the idea of waiting for me whilst I slow down in the middle of rush hour traffic for the sole purpose of playing kick the ice chunk. Little they know of the importance of my endeavor. It might look like a waste of time to you Miss Hurry-up-you-loser-don't-you-have-anything-better-to-do-driver-lady, but to me, keeping this little piece of frozen road wash going until I get to my car is significant. What else is there to do between here and there other than keep the chunk alive and as intact as I can manage it? I think nothing else matters right now.

We finally arrive. What is left of my little ice chunk and I make it to the parking lot at St. Anthony Main. I guide it to my car. I pick a direction in the almost empty lot, aim and kick my faithful friend as hard as I can. Wow! It almost flies through the white, slick pavement, little pieces of ice falling off intermittently. It makes it all the way across to the edge of the lot and manages to land in a snow bank. "Well, at least one of us is in one piece." I say out loud, as I get in the car. "Nope, nothing else matters right now."