Winter Driving

Whoever came up with this idea should have been shot.

It is 7:45 when I leave my house, snow shovel in hand, to greet the day. It isn't actually that cold, but the snow has been falling continuously since last night. Mom is helping me dig out both of our cars.

Speed is of the essence: we both have to get to work this morning. On the radio, I heard that all the area schools have shut down for the day, but that hardly matters to our employers - or our wallets. Our street has not bee plowed, so Mom warns me that I should just take it slow. Going too quickly is an easy guarantee that something will go wrong.

I should have listened.

I can feel myself losing control before it happens, first a little, then a lot. I end up sideways across both lanes of traffic over a small curve in the road, and I felt my tail end plow sideways through a snowbank.

I am lucky; I am still on the road, and I did not hit anyone. I get myself straightened out before someone hits me.

"I can see the road."

It has become my Survival Mantra and a happy lie. I can see two strips of pavement where others have come before me - until I find myself following a vague black shape. It kicks up a cloud of snow so thick I cannot see the road - or anything else, for that matter.

It is a tense drive. The road wasn't especially well-maintained, and my job is actually in the next town over.

It is an incredible relief to see buildings again, and I find myself laughing when I see on a bank sign how early I am.

When I finally get myself parked, I call Mom to let her know I'm okay.

I have no idea how I'm going to get home: the sun will be down before I am allowed to leave.