Blizzard of ’93

By Jeremy Burris

1993. Three feet of snow wrestled the Appalachians. I’d never seen the likes as bridges gave way to nature’s feat. Papa perched himself amidst the freezing current to see me across the makeshift route: planks placed across the creek.

We lost power for three days, and in time, I noticed Papa’s shivering smile. Mama held me tightly and said, “Don’t worry, everything will be kerosene lanterns and candle lights.”

It passed as quickly as it came. Locals sold shirts proclaiming: ‘I Survived the Blizzard of ’93.’ Now, mine collects darkness in some corner, awaiting its chance to rise: snowflakes from ashes.