Toboggan or Sled

Francis rolled of his worn wooden sled and lay back in the snow, as his breath froze and wafted away. He heard the distant crunching of footsteps and stood up to see his brother Tim trudging up the hill with the black plastic toboggan, almost at the top. Francis adjusted his kelly green Eagles hat and scarf as Francis ducked under the spreading branches of the cherry tree near the front door of the house. Taking a running dive, he sped down the hill, aiming for the sinkhole halfway down. It wasn’t that deep, but if Francis knew if you hit it right you could get a little bit of air before you hit the other side and kept going. He bent over and packed a few quick snowballs, bombing Tim on his way down. Tim missed the sinkhole, and Francis missed with his snowballs. His older brother slid to a halt at the bottom of the hill and popped back to his feet.

“Why do I always have the heavy sled?” Francis asked, grabbing the steel runners in each hand and beginning to walk back up the hill. With his longer legs and lighter load, Tim passed him by.

“Because” Tim answered. He lifted the plastic toboggan over his head and walked even faster. “See you at the top!”

Francis kicked snow at his older brother on his next trip down, watching as he hit the sinkhole perfectly and left the ground, yelling with delight and skidding to a halt a hundred feet later. Reaching the cherry tree, Francis took a longer running start than normal and almost got the wind knocked out of him when he dove on the sled. He narrowed his eyes as the cold wind stung his face and aimed grimly for the shallow dip in the lawn. He hit it perfectly, just like Tim, and for a brief second he was flying. He grunted when the sled slammed back to earth, and smiled until the edge of his loose scarf got caught under the runner of the sled and he was yanked sharply to his left, neck first.

Francis lay back in the snow as his breath froze and wafted away. He heard boots crunching in the snow as Tim walked by, toboggan held high again.

“You suck” his older brother snorted and kept walking. Francis rolled over and slowly got to his feet, scarf hanging low and Eagles hat lost in the snow. His neck hurt, and his arm hurt, and all the muscles in his shoulder tightened uncontrollably. Francis whimpered and stood very still. The muscles slowly relaxed, and he began to walk up the hill. Tim sped by on his toboggan again, and Francis didn’t dare try to throw a snowball. He walked stiff and upright, and the low hanging branches of the cherry tree slapped his face. His shoulder and neck clenched on their own again, and he whimpered louder. He scrabbled for the door handle, finally fumbling it open

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” he yelled, standing in the open doorway, errant snowflakes drifting into the house.

“Francis Michael, I can feel that cold air! Did you leave that door open oh my God!” she said, turning the corner into the hallway. “What happened?”

Francis’ view of his mother in the hall was swung to the side. He blinked as he realized he had inadvertently laid his head on his shoulder, ear touching his winter jacket. Trying to straighten his head, the muscles in his neck and left shoulder spasmed again, and tears began to drip out of his eyes as he gasped.

“Don’t move honey, don’t move.” His mother ran over and gently put her fingers on his cheeks. “Is it your neck?” she asked.

“It hurts.”

“Just don’t move, okay?” She grabbed a chair and put it behind him. “Sit down slowly” she said, trying to keep his head still. Another muscle spasm hit as Francis sat, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to get the phone now, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” The world was sideways again as his mother ran down the hall. Francis felt a tingling his left hand and arm, and he didn’t think it was the cold, which still blew in the open doorway.

“Mom! Mom?”