The other night Sarah and I got a big styrofoam box of Omaha Steaks in the mail from my grandma. Sending Omaha Steaks has been a very kind gesture of hers throughout my childhood. Usually for holidays such as New Years we’d get a big box of steaks and hamburgers from her. Although I loved steak as a child (and was completely spoiled by how good they were, by the way), it was not the steak that I looked forward to when I saw that big styrofoam box.
It was the big bag of dry ice inside. I remember I would always beg my dad to plug up the sink and fill it up with water so that we could throw the dry ice into the water and watch the room fill with the steam that sank to the floor due to the melting ice.
I remember always putting all of my mom’s plants near the steam because I thought it would help them grow better. I think dry ice is made of frozen carbon dioxide.
Since I have moved out of my family’s house I have not seen one of those boxes. Until the other day. So you know what I was excited for?
Sarah had never seen dry ice melt before, so I took the ice out of the bag. Filled up one of our pots and let the steam come billowing out and onto the floor. Unfortunately I didn’t have any plants to put near the steam.
Stepping Back 