Beneath The Snow

It was Mom's responsibility to find a way to entertain us while Dad was away at work. During school, we’d watched the snow as it filled the sky. After leaving school, the bus turned northward on its way to our drop-off point. A handful of coal miners' children slid down the embankment from the highway and walked across the short but snowy valley that lay between the main road and the railroad tracks. Waving goodbye to our elementary school friends, me and my two brothers, David and Billy, began our climb up the hillside following our normal path through the thorny thickets. The snow made it a hard climb, but we persevered until we reached the snow-covered dirt road. I can still hear the large wet snowflakes falling against the dry tree branches and smell the smoke as Mom stirred the small bonfire. Once the fire was blazing, our makeshift sleds were bought out, wiped off, and slid into their usual starting place near the bonfire. At that starting point, it was a gradual slope down the mountainous road covered with snow. It was our last slide that created the memory I've carried with me for 57 years. After many passes of the sled's runners over the snow, a bare spot appeared. Mom and Billy encountered a bare spot in the dying light that immediately stopped their sled. It threw both of them off onto the road like throwing dice on a blackjack table. I hear them through the snow.