We trudged slowly through the knee-deep snow. Step after step we struggled to keep upright, leaning into the wind to gain some balance against the tornado strength wind. The whiteout conditions made it impossible for us to get our bearings. I hated the thoughts that were going through my head. Which way is home? Were we going in the right direction? Would we ever see my dad again?
Our lungs were burning from breathing hour after hour of frigid artic air. This can’t be happening. My mom, I love my mom so much! I could hear her struggling to catch her breath as she called out words of encouragement to me.
‘Lucy, come on girl, we can make it!’
Then, we see a faint image appear. It’s getting closer and closer…it’s him. It’s my dad. He found us, we’re safe! We’re home!
‘Okay, Lucy, my little drama queen, snap out of it and just tell the real story!’, says my mom.
Really? (Once again, isn’t this my story?) Okay, whatever!
My mom and I went for our first walk together this week. We hadn’t gone on one together since mid-September before her foot surgery.
Okay, we didn’t walk miles and miles, we just walked to the corner and down the block a very short way.
Okay, the snow was not knee-deep, only four inches deep.
Okay, there was no tornado strength wind, only a light winter breeze.
And, nope, no whiteout conditions existed, just a nice gentle snow fall.
And, my mom’s actual words of encouragement were ‘Lucy, get your sweet dog hiney moving. I’m cold. It’s time to go home.’
And, nope, my dad wasn’t searching for us. He was out shoveling the sidewalk.
I ask you, did Hemmingway’s mom edit his writing? Please send me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org and let me know who you think should have the editing power.