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There were blizzard warnings.
We scoffed at them. We were young,
and our children had to see their grandparents for Christmas.

No matter what, we were going to get there from Chicago.
Not concerned about the snow, we did not stop even after they closed the interstate.
We had already been on the road for nine hours and eleven minutes.
This drive that usually took us a little over six hours.

We had four children in the car, not only our three, but a friend of our daughter’s.
I am sure her parents were thrilled to hear the blizzard pile up reports on the news.
This is before cell phones. We had to phone them after we arrived a few hours later.
The children were twelve, eleven, eleven and seven at the time,
and luckily had no idea
how close to death we all came on that horrible December twenty-third.

This was thirty-eight years ago, and I have never forgotten it.
When I hear blizzard warning now, I do not scoff.
It is difficult to drive with muscle tenseness for hours and hours.
Feeling you are endangering your children’s lives.
Never again, never.

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