I grew up in a big family, and we didn’t have much.
All the kids had to share one sled. We carved our names into it.
Right over the curse.
That Winter, the year I had the broken leg, the other kids took turns going down the hill.
“Let’s all get on!” shouted Robbie.
I watched through the window as the sled veered out of control, and they ran straight into the old tire swing tree.
Broken necks, hypothermia, and frostbite got them all.
Except me. I was the last kid left.
My dad busted the sled up for firewood.