White Sky

The sky is white. Pellets of snow strike my windshield. The corn is gone in Ohio, and January stubble covers the ground. The wind is a giant hand shoving my 2,000 pound car left across the highway.

I’m driving back to Cedarville from Columbus.

The speedometer reads 70 mph. I turn the wheel to the right to keep from veering to the left. I imagine being swept off the road and hitting the metal fence separating the highways.

I remember my dad driving my family during a storm. The rain hit our vehicles like drapes, obscuring. A huge semi was in front of us on the two lane highway. Dad prepared to pass, but the rain and the water thrown up by the semi eliminated visibility.

“I would have tried it if I was alone,” Dad said later. He shook his head. “But I couldn’t do that with everyone in the car.”

In 10 minutes, the snow has stopped and the sun glares through my windshield, as if to make up for its absence.

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2 Comments

  1. Rattling nice pattern and fantastic subject matter, very little else we require :D.

    Reply

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