The Lord is My Shepherd

HOLY COW

 

Hopefully we had waited and watched as the icicles dropped their last drip. The eaves  bent from the overweight, the rushing water. We have been marooned in our snowbound home for two days. Ozark's  bigggest blizzard on record just about did us in but is abating a bit now. We had been warned by Boney Tony, our only t.v. weatherman whose been here in Ozark going back to Howdie Doody Days. 'Stock up, pile dry firewood in your hallways, fill your refrigerators until they're ready to burst. Fill any empty spaces with ice cubes in pliable plastic bags.' Mama listened to his advice and followed it to a t.

 

She baked, roasted, fried, sent me to Walgreen's, the super market, for more flashlight batteries, candles, canned soups, cans of tuna. She baked little cookies so we shouldn't starve. Dad got in line at the Subaru garage, had our tires rotated, new battery put in, oil changed.
Mama found more things for us to do. Clothes that were still clean, got washed, towels, cleaning rags, too. She went overboard and kept the washer dryer working all day–just in case. The snow melted over-night, everything was going to be great, we thought.

 

Evening came fast. Night fell with a loud bang. The wind blew again,  whistled down our chimney. Fright let its head out of the bag. Mama was sure, absolutely sure, The Rapture was going to get us. The earth, all of us, sinners and god fearing folk, are going to die. With determ- ination we made it thru the night. First thing in the morning we pushed, rushed, to church to pray for our salvation. The heavy wooden door was locked. No one was in sight. Together we walked around to the back of the church where there is still a small cemetery. We knelt and prayed for the deceased who died sixty years ago. I got the feeling that this was just too ridiculous, pathetic and  asked Mom to let us go home.

 

I looked at my mother with clearer eyes. She surely seemed to be flippin' out. 'Ma, so we've been thru a big, unusual snow storm, a two parter, why do you think the earth is coming to its end? It's over, done.'

 

Sirens and the county alarm go off. Window shades go down. We were the only idiots outside waiting to be destroyed. 'Get up, Ma!' I insisted and pulled her by both her hands. 'Come on, Scardey Cat,' I begged. 'Let's all go back to the house, turn on the t.v. and find out what Boney Tony has to tell us.' Walking in a fog, she seemed to be hypnotized, moved slowly, her lips mumbled prayers I never heard her chant.

 

The chill began to get to me too. A gust of wind tossed  a ball of snow flakes smack into our faces. They were so light they kept on going. My face turned cherry red but stayed dry. I had to make her move.  'Come on, Mama, let's try to out run the snow.' Our effort was useless. By the time we reached our front steps, they were covered with glistening white crystals. Dad's car was in the garage. If we needed it, we'd have to shovel it out. All the way to the curb the snow was deeper than before.

 

Dad insisted Mama take a Valium, calm down. He fixed us a good dinner of hot chicken soup, sandwiches on Mrs. Blue House's pumpernickel bread, hot tea with Mama's chocolate covered cookies. Mama couldn't eat. Her head just slipped down into her elbows at the table and I heard her snore one or two nasal sounds. Dad must have helped her up to bed because she wasn't in the kitchen when I came down in the morning.

 

No Rapture happened. The sun was shining. Out the back window I saw something odd moving around in the our corn field that still showed no sign of corn growth. It appeared to be a big black and white dog. 'Dad, I called, 'I'm going out to see what's in our field.' The earth was sopping wet, mushy. My feet sunk into it up to my ankles. The big dog was not a dog at all. I screamed and started to run but the thing, caked in mud,  followed me, right up to our back door. It was just a calf, a little lonesome, motherless calf. I put my arms around its neck and felt something metal. The sun glistened on it and I made out the words, 'In God We Trust.' I took it into my Mama.