A Snowy Dream

A short story that I managed to write one night during a snow storm.

A Snowy Dream

By Mark Wetherby

To most of the people I know and are acquainted with have different views on some things. Politics, religion, music, and among other subjects will often lead us into a light-hearted bicker. Tonight I find myself writing on snow. Two nights ago the first and possibly last snowfall of the year hit here in Richfield, North Carolina. The snow has left banks closed and businesses closing its doors. Roads are covered in a beautiful white powder that ironically scares the s**t out of people.

A week in advance the news channels were reporting snow, though no one seemed to believe it. I must admit that I was rather apathetic about those meteorologists said. For it was not the first prediction for snow this winter. Regardless of the forecast few people prepared. I remember working with a friend throughout the day towing cars to the salvage yard. As soon I dropped the final car off snowflakes began falling from the slowly darkening sky. Once I arrive back at my house Britney, my girlfriend, decided she wants some Chinese food. By the time the order was called in, prepared, and we start on our way, the snow had just started sticking to the road. Not a single parking spot lay empty in the Food Lion parking lot. Making my way into the take out place I notice lines consisting of at least twenty people each, over in the grocery store. I wind the night up drinking cold beer and staring out into the night. Watching snow fall, while slowly but surely covering everything outside. Even with the whole sky black, the snow makes everything shine brightly in the moonlight. I must say, nightfall never looked so pretty.

Waking up early to the bright sunshine as its rays sneak right through my closed curtains, my front porch is the first place I go. With only a light jacket and a cigarette I stand shivering, yet speechless for the beauty is beyond an explanation by a single word. With the sun reflecting off the snow it glares intensely, therefore I can’t look for long. Obtaining my sunglasses and a fresh pot of coffee continues my morning routine. I decide that I might as well head out in it. All over the news and radio stations are people warning listeners to stay off the roads for under the snow is ice that apparently froze solid throughout the night. Realizing how North Carolina is completely unprepared for any type of winter weather. Then again… besides a little experience, I myself lack a proper a proper vehicle, proper attire, pretty much anything recommended for a situation like this is not in my possession. Just then I came to realize that I even lack enough non-perishable foods in case the power was to go out for a few days. Despite the danger that repeatedly comes out of the television, I get dressed to go start my two wheel drive Chevy S-10 pickup truck. For those of you that believe my truck would be ideal for winter driving, well your wrong. Allow me to briefly explain; for decent traction you want as much weight as possible especially on your driving wheels. Well my vehicle being a rear-wheel drive leaves basically no weight at all over the driving wheels. Honestly a small Honda Accord would probably get around easier than I, due to the weight of the engine over the driving wheels. So as I was saying, I wait for windshield to defrost just enough to see and back out of the driveway. Right of I discover what a sketchy idea it was when I slide backwards unable to stop at the bottom of my driveway. Stubbornness takes over so I put the truck in drive and press the gas…no movement. With the wheels spinning I drop it into second and patiently wait for traction to form. Although the wheels are spinning every ten feet along with turns often leaving me sliding slowly to the other side of the road. Sometimes forcing me to stop before drifting off into the ditch was the only option I had, then once again I would have to go through the struggle of starting. Finding apathy kicking in all this leaves me rather unphased. With no other soul in sight, I keep driving like running around ten miles per hour until I get to the gas station and pick me up a pack of cigarettes.

Arriving back at the house I don’t even attempt to make it up the steep incline of the driveway. Subconsciously feeling accomplished while smoking my fresh cigarettes, I debate about attending work. Calling out on a snow day such as this is counted as an excused absence. Perhaps if it had been another day I would have jumped at the opportunity and call them long ago. Although an unexplainable feeling of confidence and energy has consumed me. After a short time of thinking, I come to the conclusion of living this day like I would any other.

Applying weight to the rear end of my truck by strapping a bunch of treated lumber I had just gotten for a friend is the only preparation I find necessary, well perhaps the only thing could do anyway. The drive was unusually long due to the much slower pace I had to take. I must admit to taking the main roads when normally I travel the narrow, curvy, back roads to work. I believe that it would of taken more than some lumber and a new found feeling of confidence to live through those untouched roads, also time wouldn’t allow anyway. The occasional drivers I would come across all drove a large, heavy, and four-wheel drive rig. Them being the ones who always seemed to drive way to fast and aggressive left me somewhat surprised to find them driving safe and tame for the weather. What should have been a fifteen minute ride took close to forty-five. I arrive only to find the parking lot is a complete sheet of ice, comparable to an ice skating rink. Not one dry spot lies as far as I can see. Turning into a parking space leaves me sliding sideways into the next one over. Tires spinning everywhere I turn makes me realize how nobody at all was prepared for this. I must say that I am even a little intimidated now. On the radio, the host announced that this four or five inches of snow and ice is officially called the storm of 2010, which indecently it is only January.

Walking to the entrance was harder than the drive itself. Basically sliding the whole way and hugging myself to help block the treacherous wind. Once inside I find no one except a fraction of the employees that were scheduled. That ghost town vibe continued throughout the entire evening leaving my coworkers and I with absolutely nothing to do. After an accident in the parking my boss calls me to inform me that we are closing early. Even though I was scheduled until nine and I was losing much needed hours by closing at seven, I didn’t mind. I had convinced a friend of mine to pick me up a bottle of whiskey during his lunch break. So all I wanted to do was to return home and drink the night away. After the sun had set some more ice formed, though not really having any affect on my drive home. The only difference was me being the only driver I saw the entire ride home.

Relaxing, drinking, thinking is what evening consisted of. I had yet to find another person that admired all this wintery weather quite like I do. Everyone just seemed to complain about how cold and hard to get around it is. So I spend the night listening to some folk music and staring out the window at the beautiful snowflakes as they fall. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the lack of much heat in the room where I was. Suddenly I figured out why I’ve come to love and enjoy this weather.

I remember sledding down big hills only to violently crash into the snow banks that wait at the bottom. Also, I can’t forget building snowmen with my sister and constructing large forts with tunnels and rooms out of the enormous piles that the plow truck would leave on the side of the road. Sitting in that room looking out the window I find myself lost in thoughts and memories of my childhood past. My favorite place to be during these cold wintery months up in Vermont was my Grandparents house. I lived in Rutland, which was a city that was always loud, busy, and dirty. Though just thirty minutes down the road lays the beautiful country town of Chittenden. I’ll never forget around the times of sunrise and sunset my Grandparents would have adorable families of deer that enjoyed eating out the many bird-feeders daily. Never did it fail, in fact we were able to sit on the porch around those times and just wait for them to come…it worked just like clockwork. Every single weekend I would beg my Mother to let me spend a couple nights at my Grandparents house, I always got the best of her and she would drive me down there after I got out of school every Friday.

The days were filled with fun in the snow; though let me not forget about the relaxing and cozy evenings. Eventually I’d get tired, cold, and hungry, so obviously I would have to call it a day at some point. I always had to enter inside through the basement so I wouldn’t track snow and mud on the carpet upstairs. I can still recall the wonderful smell of natural wood burning that was used to heat the entire house. It was always so warm and cozy throughout that old house. Grandma had always fixed us a delicious home-cooked dinner and for dessert we would help ourselves to big bowls of ice-cream. After my Grandparents called it a night, I would grab me a tall glass of ginger-ale and head downstairs to get lost in the fun filled world of Mario. Now I can’t forget the not so pretty days. Every once and awhile we would find ourselves stuck inside due to a bad snow storm. The cold winds would be way to strong to tolerate, therefore being outside was not really an option on those days. These storms were for from uncommon; sometimes we could receive as much as five feet of snow in a single day. In North Carolina a storm like that would have been the worst possible event could ever occur. Every business would be shut down, people would probably be afraid to step foot outside into their own front yards.

Though up at my Grandparents house the harsh weather did not kindle our spirits in the slightest. I would spend my day playing music with my Grandfather while we sat by the fire. As I strummed those sloppy chords and he blew into that old harmonica, nothing else in the world mattered. After some time of playing my fingers would ache and Gramps would be out of breath. So Gram makes us sandwiches and I’d spend the rest of the afternoon looking at old family pictures, and watching home movies. Most of the events that took place in the movies and pictures were before my time, except every so often one would bring back a cherished memory of mine and cause me to cry. I can’t explain why, perhaps they were tears of happiness or perhaps, deep down inside I wanted to relive those days…back in those simpler days.

So I sit here drunk remembering all those fond memories of my past childhood. A few tears have been shed during the writing of this paper. Just like when I was a young lad and watching those home videos, I find myself wishing to go back the days when everything was so sincere, simple, and honest. Even though I would give anything to be able to do so, I know that it is impossible. I am grown now and all I can do is live life to the fullest while doing my best to enjoy every minute of it. For now writing these types of papers on how I remember and see things…well it will have to do.

　

Reviews

[deeps]

This is so amazing, I liked this alot.
Very well written and interesting i must say.

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

I like reading what this might be called, stream of consious .. and anything about snow as here we have so little .. i love snow it seems to make people a little more friendly and happier. well here anyway.. this was interesting .. i enjoyed it ..

Peace
Chloe