i'm with my boys, i'm with my troops, yeah

I stare at the computer screen, at the empty white field of my Word document. I take a deep breath and start marching my tiny band of ragtag soldiers onto the page, into this snowy tundra where many before us have gotten stuck, lost their minds, died in their tracks.

We strike out – with no plan, no compass, no reinforcements around the bend. From time to time, I look back and study my little troops in their orderly black rows. They are a mixed bunch – tall, short, round, angular, humped. They form clusters and groups, some stand alone, others drop commas and dashes and periods. Their ranks swell and thin and swell again. But they’re loyal and follow wherever I lead.

Today, we’re searching for images that might be worked into a piece, a short commentary, a blog post perhaps. They’re hidden somewhere within this blanket of white. But I'm wandering in circles, and it isn’t long before I’m unsure of my whereabouts. I stop. My men stop. I double-back and retrace my steps. I already know some of them won’t make it back. After a few minutes, I regain my bearings and press on.

Soon we come across something: a pair of discarded jeans, basketball jersey and empty McDonalds bag. I poke at the pooled clothing. Remnants of a lunchtime quickie? A fugitive shedding his "last-seen-wearing" clothes? A short time later, we stumble upon a small carved Buddha, the features worn smooth. A talisman fallen from someone's pocket? Has their luck now changed? I blow off the snow and tuck it away. Might come in handy.

After slogging a while longer, my eyes start getting bleary, hunger setting in. I survey the white expanse of the page, the distance yet to go, and feel myself fading. I look back at the long tracks we’ve laid down. Then I spy something just ahead, the ghost of a shape. I stumble forward, troops close on my heels. I raise my hand to say we’ve finally arrived. But I can tell by their crisp and attentive demeanor, they’ve known this all along.