Writer's Workshop- A Thanksgiving Memory

When my brother was married, he had a stepson, Allen, who was only 3 years younger than me. It was great fun to have a playmate (most of the time.) one Thanksgiving, I think it was '93 or '94 and I was 10 or 11, we had a gigantic blizzard. It was so bad that I could only go so far away from the porch before I got sucked into the snow drifts. My dad worked for the department of transportation, and was working from noon to midnight, so we ate dinner really early, so he could have his thanksgiving before going to work. Allen and I gobbled down our dinner and then jumped into our boots, hats, gloves, and coats and headed out to play. My brother built us an igloo and we played in there, had a snowball fight, built a fort and even made a "snow slide" out of a board we found, covered with ice (which ruined the back of my yellow coat.) We had a blast and played til we were frozen through and through.

That spring, my brother and Allen's mom got divorced and she eventually moved from Pennsylvania to Indiana with her family. I didn't really see Allen much after that. A few times, when he was 14 or 15 when he came with his mom to pick up my nephew for the summer, but never again was he my BFF.

Then, when he was 16, he hit black ice and rolled his truck, got out and walked for help and died that night from internal injuries. I remember sitting on the floor of my dorm room and crying. I was crushed. Even though we weren't close anymore, it felt like I lost a piece of my childhood.

Still though, when it snows on Thanksgiving, I still think of my friend, my partner in crime and smile and I hope that he is looking down and smiling, too.