It was like a Christmas movie. The heroine puts her frail, elderly mother in the car together with all the Christmas gifts and takes off for the holiday celebrations with family. Only to be hit by a blizzard, take a turn a little too fast and ending up in a snow drift. Stuck, with spinning wheels.
That was how my Christmas started. I have driven cars in blizzards before and thought I knew how, but this one defeated me. I jumped out of the car in my long skirt and beautiful white coat. The snow was up to my knees and soaked through my boots. People stopped to help. Lots of people. (Faith in human kindness restored right there!) My little car proved exceptionally stubborn, refusing to budge even when large men fearlessly jumped into the snowdrift to shovel snow and push for all they were worth.
Had this actually been a Christmas movie, one of those men would have turned out to be the man I eventually married. Well, no. But we got the car out in the end.
I drove the rest of the way to my sister's house, only a minute away. There was still zero visibility and I had to guess where the road was. I hit another snowdrift and almost buried the car in it. I managed to get it out with some difficulty. My mother wisely declined to comment, beyond an initial gasp. Then I had to slow down for the turn into my sister's yard. Stuck again. Family members cleared away loose snow to help. I managed the last turn and parked.
I collected my mother and the Christmas gifts, peeled off wet clothes, asked my sister for a pair of dry socks, brushed icicles out of my hair with as much dignity I could muster. And sat down for a delicious Christmas dinner, smiling.
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