Shelter From The Storm

- Bianka Warren

I could hear the snow pellets hitting the roof of my house, as a snowstorm ravaged my hometown of Cannington, Ont., in the winter of 1981. I pressed my nose to the window to watch the storm, but ice had formed rock-solid on the glass, creating an etched-crystal canvas that made it difficult to see out. I could vaguely make out the power lines weighed down by excess snow, ice and sleet. A short time later, the power went out, leaving my mom, brother Desche and I in complete darkness. Not only could I not see my hands in front of my face, but the eerie sound of the wind whistling outside gave me goosebumps.

In anticipation of the storm, Mom had already gathered some supplies. Stretching our hands out in front of us, we felt our way to the kitchen table, where we found a couple of flashlights, emergency candles and matches. I turned on the flashlight to guide my mom up to my bedroom to get my mattress, so we could take it downstairs and gather on it around the woodstove.