Every year there comes a point where I hear a familiar sound. It’s usually in the morning or night and I only really notice it when I’m walking by myself. It is the wonderful sound of the ice breaking beneath my feet.
I have had this love for breaking ice since I was very small. I used to be late for school due to my obsession with trying to break all the ice I could on the sidewalk. My absolute favorite is the sound of a large chunk of ice breaking away from a larger sheet. It happens when there is a tiny gap between the ground and the ice and when it snaps, it makes this squeaky crunch sound. I also love the squeak of the ice when there is water underneath it. This has lead to me becoming very wet when I was young from falling into various creeks while breaking ice. The worst I that I remember getting wet was with my friend Harvey. We were having a great old time breaking the ice until it completely gave and both of us ended up falling into the water. I think the only place I was dry was my head. I can’t remember how wet Harvey got but I do remember that miserable twenty minute walk back to his place.
What brought all this about was walking home the other night and I heard that squeaky chunk sound. I must have been jumping around, giggling with glee for a good ten minutes. I even caught myself flinging my arms in the air while jumping to get all of my weight behind it. I really am an 8 year old man sometimes.
That’s a good thing. If you can’t keep silliness in your heart, you get old way too fast.