Stranded WC 285

Stranded
WC 285

I was driving through a blizzard on a winding mountain road. My cell phone kept ringing, but I didn’t answer it. I was busy trying to stay alive. Up ahead I could barely make out the sign for Lake Arrowhead.

“Thank you, God!”

The cabin was snowed in, but I made it into our driveway.

I used to love our cabin in the winter. When my husband and I drove up, he was always in control of the steering wheel and, once we got there, the snow shovel.

Barry passed away two years ago; this was my first time back to the cabin. I knew the pipes might be frozen and I also knew there would probably be critters inside. He always took care of those tasks.

So, there I sat—not wanting to get out of the car, but not wanting to venture down the mountain.

My cell phone rang again. This time I answered it.

“Mom,” my daughter yelled into my ear, “I’ve been worried sick.”

“Indoor voice, please, Rosie!”

“I’m mad now that I know you’re okay. I thought you’d call when you got there.”

“I was just going to,” I lied.

“So, are you having fun?”

Nothing was much fun without Barry and Rosie. She had her own life in Tennessee, a world away from California.

“Oh, the snow is so beautiful! I have a fire going and I’m sipping a glass of Chardonnay.”

“I’m so glad. I didn’t mean to yell, I was just scared.”

“I know, honey. Well, I must dress for dinner. The neighbors and I are going to Antler’s Inn.”

“Have fun."

“Oh, we will!"

"Love you, Mom!"

"Love you more,” I said and disconnected the call.

Now what?