Warm Despite The Snow

"When I think of angels, I think of you

And your rusty-brown hair

And the things that you do"

 - I Think Of Angels, by Cat Power

Memoir Prose from February 2021

My sister and I use red plastic dustpans to scoop snow into a large storage bin. They say we haven’t had a winter storm like this in Texas since 1949. Our shoes sink through a crunchy layer of frost to the powdery snow below. The water went out, so we’ll melt this for toilet flushes or emergencies. We’re a state bare of snowplows, prepared for sweltering heat but not cold. We’re among the lucky ones who haven’t lost power, yet even so, the apartment is cold enough that we use a toaster oven as a space heater, the three of us bundling up close to it; my sister, boyfriend, and I. 

  My boyfriend’s mother texts us from another state, calling this time “crisis bonding”. My sister and I can communicate some without words, our eyes and body language understood intimately, and my boyfriend and I are developing that knowing as well. I had been at his place for Valentine’s Day when the storm hit, and when I asked if we could get my sister from the apartment we share once the power went out, he said yes immediately, even relishing the chance for a rescue mission, as we quickly called it. Through the growing dusk he navigated around other cars sliding on the icy roads. Now here we are, boosting our water reserves with snow, eating what food we could find on the ransacked shelves of a Target with eerily little power, and watching the news, knowing others have it far worse. 
 
  We’ll make it through all of this in a few days. Temperatures will rise and melt the snow. Power and water will be restored across the state. Grocery store shelves will be restocked. We’ll look back and remember the cold, the dangerous roads, the people who died, the homes which flooded from burst pipes, the political blame, and the unknown of it all. We’ll also think back on the stories of good Samaritans who reached out to help, the communities which came together, and how the three of us made it through together, texting friends and family members for regular check-ins. We’ll recall with fondness how we played Yahtzee beside the toaster oven, how grateful we were to have just bought more coffee, and how we saw a herd of deer gracefully picking their way through the woods behind the apartment. We will brim full of thankfulness that we had each other throughout. In the end, times of drama or trauma or uncomfortable unknowns can ring us awake through the monotony of ordinary times. We will say, “Remember when?” and talk about them animatedly, glad for the crisis bonding and the time together.

 
  My sister and I each grab a handle of the bin and haul it, heavy with snow, inside. We stomp our feet and warm our hands. Across the room, I catch my boyfriend’s eye even as he is immersed in a conference call. He winks, and it is enough. I know exactly what he means.