Now I understand why my dad used to stay up all night and pace the living room floor when bad storms were expected.
When you live by yourself with trees and power lines everywhere, you can’t help but think the worst might happen. Luckily, it didn’t.
I could see no signs of ice.
I still had electricity.
Once darkness turned into dawn, I marveled at the beautiful white blanket that Mother Nature provided during the night. It proved both peaceful and serene to me, two things I haven’t experienced much of lately.
Unlike a majority of my friends, however, I stayed indoors.
I scanned Facebook throughout the day to see their snow angel and sledding pics, and snowball fight videos. For one day, the weight of the world’s burdens had been forgotten and everyone frolicked in the white powder.
Temps warmed up and the snow began to melt.
And again, I thought of my dad.
He worked for the Wilson division of the N.C. Department of Transportation for more than 30 years. On days like these, he was usually on call, but I hardly remember him leaving the house.
He’d bundle up and head outside to clear the snow off of his truck and mom’s car. If the snow wasn’t too deep, he’d call on me and my brother to grab a shovel and help him.
It wasn’t long before we’d head back into the warm house.
Mom always seemed to have a big pot of vegetable beef soup cooking on the stove. My brother and I usually filled our bowls almost to the brim. We’d sit down at the table and munch on some crackers as we waited for the soup to cool down.
Dad always searched mom’s cabinet beside the stove for a big bowl.
I knew what that meant.
Good old snow cream.
He’d go outside for a few minutes, fill the bowl with some “clean” snow and put it in the freezer.
Not long after we finished our bowls of soup, mom would ask if any of us wanted some snow cream. Even though our bellies were usually full, all of us found a little bit of room for that delicious concoction that easily melted in your mouth like cotton candy.
When the temps started to rise, we could hear snow sliding off the roof and falling to the ground as it started to melt. Every once in a while, we’d hear an icicle or two suffer the same fate.
Within a couple of days, everything would be gone.
But certainly not forgotten.
Mother Nature had blessed us with a calm storm and a cool treat.
We could only hope the next storm would be the same.
Rudy Coggins is assistant editor of the Mount Olive Tribune. He can be reached at email@example.com.