That night, I pulled the little ones close, and watched the flames dance in the fireplace, gradually sinking to the floor as some child had poked a hole in the air mattress. We drifted to sleep, only to be awakened a short time later by a telephone call, “Mom, I’m okay, but I hit a tree, and then one of my friends came around the curve and rear-ended me.”Ten kids were involved in the accident, but thankfully no one was injured. I spent the remainder of the night making various phone calls, and trying to find a tow truck that didn’t have AAA’s 12-hour wait.
By Thursday, snow drifts were so deep around the back door that I had to carry my six-year-old to the truck. I wondered if he will remember these days as fondly as I remember the blizzard of ‘78. It’s much more pleasant when you are the kid instead of the responsible adult.
Forcefully sweeping snow from the vehicle, I did not laugh gaily when a mound landed squarely on my head. I climbed into the truck, and then realized the end of the driveway had been plowed shut. Switching to four-wheel drive, and flooring the accelerator, I blasted through the snow embankment and directly into the twin snow bank across the road.
The air was still, the landscape nearly pristine, but my heart was not at peace. “Uncle!” I cried. “I give!”Not only have I withdrawn my presidential candidacy, I have canceled what I thought would be a lifetime membership to the Let It Snow club. I have officially had enough to last a lifetime.
Ginger Truitt is an author, speaker and mother of five. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org, or find her on Facebook (Ginger Truitt-Author) and Twitter (@GingerTruitt).