Snowball
February 22nd, 2008
by Imani Carter
“Imani, Brianca, come here. I have to tell you something,” my mother said. It was obvious she had practiced her speech over and over in the car before she came home. “Your dad passed away earlier today,” she said. Although I knew she was going to say it, it wasn’t something I imagined. Tears fell down my cheeks like scattered rain. Those words were like daggers, jabbing at my heart one after another as they left my mother’s mouth. I moaned from the pain, and my mother embraced me.
Five hours earlier, I was laughing with excitement. My friend, Tyler, had come over to play with me and my twin sister, Brianca. We made dozens of snow angels and attempted to build Frosty the Snowman. Unfortunately, Frosty looked more like Jack Frost: The Killer Snowman. The Cheltenham School District closed the schools for safety reasons, but the scenery made it hard to think anyone could get into a car accident. The road, the sky, and even the cars were white. It felt like Heaven; everything was pure and perfect. It reminded me of the snow days I spent with my father. He used to drive my sister and me up to Burholme Park and go sledding with us down gigantic hills for hours. Then, we headed home where hot chocolate, made by mother, was waiting for us on the kitchen table. Even though he wasn’t with us now, I knew he’d get better enough to sled with us next winter. At least that’s what I thought while my friends and I played in the snow.
“Do you girls want something to eat?” my sister’s godmother, Miss Jeanette, called from our rickety screen door after Tyler went home. We nodded our heads, eager for some nutrition after playing in the cottony snow. Miss Jeanette came over to babysit us while my mother went to visit my father in the hospital. He had been in a coma. Before he was hospitalized, my father was a Marine Veteran and worked at the Veteran’s Hospital in Coatesville, Pennsylvania. He fought in the Vietnam war in the early 70s, and he ended up being a heavy drinker afterwards. He stopped drinking before he met my mother, but the damage had taken over his life. After getting a liver transplant in July 2007, he didn’t want to stay home and recover. He wanted to continue helping his fellow other Vets. I guess that was the Marine in him.
Miss Jeanette drove us to the Wendy’s drive-thru on Cottman Avenue. It was normally a two-minute drive, but because of the snow, it took ten minutes. I wondered how something so pretty seemed to be the cause of so many setbacks. After we ate our beefy cheeseburgers, my mother came home. She looked exhausted. She was very hesitant about something. But somehow, she looked ready. I didn’t know what for, but she looked like she knew she had to be ready for an uphill battle.
Life and snow go together hand-in-hand. They’re both pretty and perfect. Sometimes, pretty and perfect become a facade. Sometimes, they’re unexpected. After lollygagging around in life’s playground, reality sets in. Snow and life can create devastations and take important items away from you. But in order to deal with the catastrophes, you have to shovel and clean it up. You have to prepare for far worst storms to come. You have to grow up and recognize the good and the bad. I have grown up and realized that life throws curve balls, or snowballs, and I have to be prepared to fight. And I’m ready for anything.