It was a cold winter Saturday, and the wind was blowing softly through the frozen trees, releasing a small dust of snow off the branches with every puff. Hunter and I were inside, pulling up our heavy snow pants and zipping up our tattered jackets. Our mom walked over to us and tied our scarves while reminding us to wear our hats and mittens. Hunter and I were ecstatic to go out on the snowmobile. We hadn't been able to do it in a long time, and we were jumping off the walls because we finally got ours fixed.

We eventually were bundled up in our thousand layers of clothes, and waddled with excitement outside to the snowmobile. I hopped on in the front, my father following behind me and Hunter behind him holding on to his waist.

My father started the snowmobile up, and we took off. We drove through the trails we made in the woods. Creating new tracks every time we went around. We then popped out of the trail onto Arlene Drive. It's once gravel road was layered with snow and ice. I could feel the wind blowing across my smooth face and the cold trying to fight its way into my warmth. I glanced down at the speedometer, we were going a comfortable speed. I looked over my shoulder to see the heavy snow holding trees. They started to move faster and faster. The wind started to blow louder in my ears. I glanced down again. This time we weren't going an appropriate speed. We were going too fast, and I started to panic. I wanted to say something. I wanted to say that we need to slow down, but I didn't.

I was a kid, and a kid is supposed to trust their parent. 

The three of us continued to fly our way down Arlene Drive. The driveways rushed past us, and soon ours did too. We reached the top of the snow-covered hill, and sped down it.

The world froze.

A second before, we were on the snowmobile. Now, we all were laying in the ditch. The snowmobile was yards away, finishing its last roll. We had hit black ice. I propped myself up onto my side with the help of my right elbow. I could taste a mix of iron and copper invading my mouth. I realized my lip was bleeding, and with every second passing, I could feel my lip swelling more and more. Hunter and my father lay in the disturbed snow in front of me. My unconscious father's blood stained the snow around his head. I crawled over to him. I shook him, I yelled at him, trying anything to wake him up, but nothing worked.

I stood up and made a beeline toward the house. Running through the trees and deep snow. The branches stretched and reached out for me as I crashed through them. The snow got deeper and deeper, making it all the harder to run through. It felt like the snow  was trying to keep me away from the house. With every step I took, my breath was left behind with it. I thought to myself. “I can't make it. How can I?” My pace weakened, and I could hear Hunter catching up with me. “You have to make it Megan, you have to.”  I thought to myself. With that self motivation, I gave it everything I had. I finally made it to the edge of the woods. With the hardest part behind me, I made it to the house.

I bolted through the door, and the smell of fresh-baked cookies welcomed me as I darted down the stairs. Not caring that my snow-covered boots soaked the carpet. My mom, grandma, and older brother Zach were watching a movie. They saw me rush down the stairs. Worry spread across their faces. I told them the snowmobile flipped and I couldn't get Dad to wake up. Mom and grandma stopped for a short moment to put their boots and coat on, and rushed out of the house. They hopped into my grandma's small green car and headed to where I had told them he was lying.

I snuck back outside, choosing to run through the woods again. Seeming Hunter and I had just made a path through it, making it easier than the first time. I saw my mom struggle to haul my father's semiconscious body into the back of my grandma car. She held paper towels to his forehead, hoping to stop the bleeding.
She kept on saying “Doug we have to go to the hospital!”.

  He continued to respond like a recording that kept replaying over again. “No, I don't need to go to the hospital, I'm fine.”. Every time he responded, his voice slurred more and more, and soon became inaudible. Not knowing what to do, and following my father's request, my mom brought him back to the house.

  They next day was another cold winter Sunday. I remember waking up thinking, maybe if my lip swells up enough, I won't have to go to church. My mom soon after popped her head into my room and asked me if I wanted to go to church. I was astonished. I got to pick if I wanted to go. Being a kid, I pondered the question for maybe a second. Only because I had to make it seem like it was a hard decision to make. I took the opportunity that Sunday to stay home.

Every night my dad would sleep on the floor in the living room. Being young, I never thought too long about why he did. My father was the heaviest sleeper I knew. Nothing in the world could wake him up. As years passed, I started to pick up on clues. I could smell certain things on him. I'd ask him why he was walking so funny. At night I could overhear my parents arguing. Eventually I put the puzzle pieces together to why my father slept so hard, why he walked and talked funny. He is an alcoholic. All parts of the day.

Realizing that as a kid, you look back at your life, and certain events start falling in place. Such as the snowmobile accident when I was younger. Yes, we may have hit a little patch of black ice, but that wasn't the reason we went flying from it on that frozen winter day. My father was drunk and those were the days when he still tried to hide it. He was drunk while he had two of his three kids on the snowmobile. He could have killed us. Being six, that's not what I took out of that day.We could have died, but what I cared about was if I could get out of going to church the next day.

My father doesn't remember taking us out on the snowmobile that day. I can't go on snowmobiles or four wheelers without having a panic attack, and he doesn't even remember. He doesn't remember that fateful snowy afternoon where he risked his life, Hunter's life and my life.