Personal Narrative: The Sheep

Tires squealed on black ice and the engine backfired as she swerved around a narrow edge of the cliff. Jennifer Lesniak is traveling from Wisconsin to Oregon in a six ton truck through treacherous mountains and endless plains. It was three days of almost non-stop driving, only being able to sleep when she gave the wheel to her husband. Just when she was about to give up she thought the extreme weather in Wisconsin and about why she was moving to Oregon in the first place. She carried on willed by the warmer weather that awaited her on the west coast. The snow fell like ash from a volcano, building up on the road to the point where they had to get out of their truck and shovel the road clear. “Clearing the roads were extremely difficult” She said. “We were so close to the edge of this mountain standing on slippery ice trying to shovel the snow out of the road with little to no safety guard between us and the drop.”

As I heard my alarm clock go off at two in the morning, feeling prepared mentally but not physically. My mind,at that point in time raced with thoughts and expectations, although my body felt like it wanted to die. Finally dragging myself out from under the soft covers, I pulled my gear to the bed of the truck and threw my bag up over the side of the truck's bed,-- hearing a giant thud from the heftiness of my pack. I felt mixed emotions coming from my body, my mind ready and my body said: “go back to bed hate you, I hate you, I hate you”. As soon as I plopped myself into the truck squished with three people in the back seat, after about five minutes of driving all three of us passed out fast asleep. The moment I woke, pulling into the parking lot of Mount Washington, New Hampshire I felt ready. When I stepped out of the car, I threw my hands in the air, the best feeling of stretching after a car ride. I look up to see this mountain completely covered with snow and only one round part completely treeless; that's where we hiked too. Strapping my fifty-pound pack on my back containing ski boots, skis, poles, winter gear, and food felt more tiring than it should have.

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

When I heard Jessica crying and saw the dog looking into my face I told him “Georgie go see why Jessica is crying”. Next thing I knew he went off running and she was quiet so I went to check on her and there they were in the bed sleeping, he comfort her. Even though a snow storm was coming, she decided to go on her winter camping trip anyway. It was like something was calling her out there. But in the event of her wilderness trip she was starting to feel better. There was a positivity her in her life that was growing and the depression had started to fade by the activities she is doing. Her experience of sleeping in below freezing caves, digging out of a snow barricades with the help of Jackson and Hailey. She was doing things her and her dogs would never have dreamed of. She admits that her very cold and freezing adventure has helped her appreciate the beauty of life and her winter wilderness experience. She was starting to feel like she belong and was appreciating the value of her life and her surroundings. “A Blizzard under blue sky” gave her a new lease on life and a spark of rejuvenation.

The flurries of the snow matched his mind dancing and moving with such grace and exquisite beauty. His mind then stopped and went completely and totally blank. A blank that matched the gray sky that he was sitting under, empty and somber and numb. For the 17 year old boy was gone forever. The amazing potential that was him was all gone in something far shorter than a second. Resulting in a hallow form, a type of shell. His parting gift was a tear, a single and profound tear. This gift was for himself, for his family, for his friends and for the entire world. This gift was a highly condensed version of himself. A thing that had always felt too much and too little. It was small and insignificant and it was all he was. It was alone and it was tragic and he gave it to the snow. It fell across his crimson cheek and with it, his soul. What happened next was just as sincere as his gift. His body awoke and he began to move with the flurries as if they were pushing and pulling him, moving him to their will. After a time they had reached their destination, buried beneath a thin blanket of snow was the miles of frozen steel and wood that came together in perfect symmetry. The rail roads purpose was to create a way for trains to move cargo or passengers from one place to

Growing up was though. The hardest part was learning how to dwell with unpredictability. When I was a kid, it enchanted me. I was fascinated to observe how randomness could yield starry skies, carve underwater caves or compose the most fascinating stories. Still, I wouldn't let uncertainty flow through my veins. I craved for maintaining the status quo on whatever was within my reach. I built LEGO's exactly as the manuals suggested, did group projects my way and only accepted challenges I could handle. As a child, I was afraid to take a leap beyond my safe boundaries. However, I was obligated to flee far away from them.

This is my sixth day on the ice. This is the first time the weather has been calm enough for me to take off my gloves. I want to leave this missive in case I don’t make it back home. I started on my journey with a team of seven dogs and my Inuit guide. Three of the dogs were lost in the white out. The wind howled and we tried to dig in, but my guide slipped and cut his leg with his knife. He lasted three days, and I can still hear his moaning as he finally gave in to the cold and the infection that festered in his leg. I lost my goggles in the storm and the white is nearly blinding. I have never felt this cold. I feel as if I am close to the grave. The light is slipping away and I know that the approaching night may bring my death. I need

we lived in a small deserted town with a population of seven hundred and sixteen. it was made of three blocks that use to boom with depressing, vacant tenants with no purpose in life but to figure out why they were present in this tundra-like hell. everyone fucking sad but simple. at this time every year, a wicked snowstorm

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

As muscles tightened and head throbbed, all that was on my mind was the fear I would never be able to get up again. Very thankful for the time with friends, it never crossed my mind something like this could happen. My heart was racing like it wasn’t going to stop, and then it hit me like a brick wall. There I was lying on the hard earth staring at the blurred trees stuttering around me like a slow motion video. Driving up to trollhaugen on this frostbitten arctic February day felt like a century as all the kids had been looking forward to this day forever. Laughing and playing games was our way to pass time as well as occasionally glancing out into the bleak fields of grass. Pulling into Trollhaugen’s parking lot lit up our faces like children

Winter is the most wonderful time of the year. The white snow covers the ground like white fluffy blanket. I stay indoors in the warm heat and enjoy a nice cup of hot chocolate with family and friends. I look out the window into the bright light made by the crystal white snow and the shining sun. I walk outside in the frigid cold wrapped up in multiple layers of clothes to protect me from the harsh winter winds. The town is at a silent stand still as snow covers all the roads. I pick up a handful of snow, and take a bite it tastes like a flavorless sno-cone. I walk a couple blocks to see dozens of little kids riding sleighs down the icy slopes of Main Street. I make my way back home, but I could hear a loud screeching noise almost as if someone was using a jackhammer. They were finally

It was a cold day, so cold that your arms start to sting as if a needle is impaling the surface of your skin. The wind applies a force which feels as if your face is oozing with thick crimson red blood. The gray puffy clouds covered the sky and dropped small snowflakes onto the road’s surface. A man stood there, freezing, clearing the coat of thick white snow from the concrete road. His nose runs with a river of snot that floods out when the cold wind strikes. His sense of smell is heavily clogged by the slimy snot, but he can still smell the scent of the steamy hot chocolate which sits on the top of his snow covered car. His feet start to numb because of the cold flood which soaks through his boots to his white, silky socks. His feet feel as if he stepped into the freezing cold ocean. As if he fell through ice and he was stuck standing there. The vast pile of the ice white snow feels almost like a quicksand around his black rubber boot. Foggy figures of people shovel the big piles of snow off the sidewalks. They scrape and pick at the glossy white ice which sticks to the sidewalk like a little boy clinging to his mother's side. His feet still sting as if he was stepping on pins and needles. His hands are damp with sweat from grasping the curved metal shaft attached to a socket which holds the blade. The blade cuts holes into the thick powdered snow which is removed from the endless pile. The jet black shovel is filled with slushy snow and crystal shards of ice. The end of

On a snowy and windy night, I was at Barnes & Noble in Green Bay with my friends, Alan and Karina. Christmas music played overhead, the smell of hot chocolate and freshly brewed coffee wafted over, the customers were kind and cheerful, and snow was beginning to blanket the parking lot outside. We were sitting near the cafe wrapping books to support their mom’s school fundraiser. I stared outside and remembered my mom’s warning of the large snowfall that was almost upon us. Around 7:15, the snowflakes were becoming larger and we could barely see outside the window.

As my family and I pulled into my grandparent’s driveway, my eyes gazed upon the endless rows of cars parked on the frozen lawn. The familiar crunch of snow underneath tires echoed throughout the car as my father parked next to the other cars. Once the car door opened, the brisk, fresh air nipped at my nose. My siblings and I darted to the front porch of my grandparent’s house trying to escape the cold. With rosy cheeks and frozen hands, I stepped in to the small yet cozy entryway. Endless conversations between the sea of people in the house erupted before me. Sitting on the rustic wooden bench, I tugged off my