The Snowstorm

January 8, 2018
By , Clarkston, MI

It was a cold December night, I was peering out my window of the twenty-eighth story apartment building where I temporarily lived with my aunt and uncle. All I could see were the cars with their bright head lights and the tall skyscraper buildings of the New York skyline. All I could think about was the terrible car accident that had taken my parents’ life. The terrible accident that had made me an orphan and made me long for the comforting, warm arms of my parents. This horrific accident happened one month ago as we were traveling back from visiting my eighty-one year old grandmother in Maine. We had gone to celebrate her birthday.  All of my grandmother’s seven children and their families were there to celebrate her life, especially since she has had so many trips to the hospital due to her heart condition. She had actually been released from the hospital only about a week prior to everyone’s arrival.  I have always loved traveling to my grandmother’s three bedroom ranch style house.  It was always so warm and inviting and smelled of her yummy, delicious banana bread.


On the way back home, my parents and I got caught in a blustery snowstorm.  My dad was driving our silver and blue Dodge Minivan.  He could barely see out the front windshield as the thick snowflakes fell rapidly onto the car and roads.  The temperatures were freezing and the roads were as slick as an ice skating rink. My dad was only traveling at a turtle’s pace at thirty-five miles per hour on the highway.  My dad despised driving in heavy snow storms, but there was nowhere to stop for shelter and we wanted to reach home as soon as possible. My dad debated about parking the car on the side of the highway and we did try it for about a half an hour. But he was worried that we were sitting ducks as the other cars drove and sometimes slid by our minivan.  My dad decided to continue our trek on the snow covered road for fear of being hit by another vehicle.


The sun went down and night was upon us.  It was like staring into a dark cave with white specks of snow flowing rapidly down upon us.  My dad’s strong, large hands tightly gripped the tan colored steering wheel.  I could feel our van sliding back and forth on the snowy and icy road. My mom and I would let out a shriek every so often for fear we were going to slide right into a ditch.  My dad remained calm.  But I could see the fear in his face. His face was as pale as snow. He didn’t make eye contact, trying to hide his fear. Then it happened so suddenly.  There was a black Chevy Malibu about two car lengths in front of us. Traveling behind us was a large semi-truck who was going pretty fast for my dad’s taste.  My dad did not want to go any faster.  The semi-truck moved sharply into the passing lane and lost control and pushed the Chevy Malibu onto the shoulder of the road and into the ditch. Our minivan had nowhere to go, it ran directly into the side of the semi-truck as it took the entire two lanes of the highway. We hit the truck head on and the bottom of the truck hit the front windshield and my parents.  I heard the large noise of our minivan crashing into the truck, the shattering of glass, and my parents’ earth shattering screams.  That is the last time I would ever hear their voices.


The next thing that I remember was waking up in a hospital room with my aunt and uncle standing over me.  I asked in a feeble voice, “Where are my parents?”  But I already knew the answer deep in my heart, but I had to hear them say that my parents had died for me to believe it.  I cried so much and for so many days to follow. All I could remember and think about from then on was the terrible car accident that took my parents’ life. The terrible accident that had changed my life forever. 






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