Stories From Owen Sound… A Tale From An Ontarian Winter Dear Dialogue, Hello again. Here is a story that I wrote about Ontarian winters when living in Lucknow, Ont. Teresa
Going Home By Teresa Rowe, Owen Sound
Hearing the words "going home" conjures up as many images as there are people. It could be a family gathering with the turkey dinner, dressing and all the fixings – or a weary soldier "going home" after a tour of duty. As this story proceeds, "going home" for me will be driving 38 kms in a blizzard. I had been waiting with anticipation for some time to join the Kincardine Writer's Group. As the hour approaches and as I open the heavy wooden doors at Trillium Court Facilities, with a poem I had written in hand, I can hardly wait to begin as a new member. I see a man with a briefcase, with pen in hand; he signs in at the front door. He must be a writer, I say to myself. He looks like a writer to me. Which floor is the meeting on, I wonder. He takes the elevator as I am signing in. The elevator closes quietly for me and soon opens on second floor. I know from experience that a meeting room is around the corner. I have been in this building before. The man is there again. I ask about The Writer's Group. He assures me that I am in the right place and so far there are only two of us. I feel comfortable. Within a couple minutes, the three women arrive and the meeting begins... I learn about a school in Africa that this group is sponsoring and some coming events. Everyone reads something new and I read for the first time. They were gracious with my first reading attempt. As I listen to the other writers, pleasure crosses my face with a smile a mile wide. Before we leave the room, I turn to look out the window. I see the snow blowing fast and furious, on a horizontal angle. Someone mentions that it's a 'little clipper'. To ease my own anxiousness (which I was surprised I felt within me), I said "Oh I've done this before." The snow came with such force that by www.dialogue.ca
the time one side of the car was swept, the other needed to be swept again! Immediately it was clear to me that the visibility would be poor. "It couldn't be like this all the way home, could it?" Feeling that I was making a wise decision I drove down my favourite road, the South Line, I couldn't believe that even with the car’s bright lights, I could see nothing! Another of my surprises was not being able to go over 30 kms an hour at any point since leaving Kincardine. I certainly was grateful being the only car on the road for the most part, as at times I would see the reassuring yellow line. It is frightening to be on the wrong side of the road in the darkness. As I turn left on county road 7, the snow is beginning to accumulate on the road. With relief, I see the bright lights of Ripley... I see the beauty of the light and shadow dancing together over the town. Finally with a sigh of relief I turn onto county road 86. Thirteen kms. to home – Hooray! The road beneath me feels like I am driving on braided ropes. The snow is thicker and heavier under my winter tires. It is hard going at times. The tires want to slow down. Then all of a sudden the car slides sideways and I go into a skid. With clenched fists and white knuckles, I hang on to the steering wheel for dear life. "You are not putting your foot on the brake old girl!" I can feel myself holding my breath. For a moment, time stands still. Thankfully I come out of the skid. Just a few minutes more, until I turn into my own parking lot. One of the other tenants from my building is just getting home. He is walking. "What a beautiful night," I say. The cold crispness touches my face, how refreshing it is to be home in Lucknow. Teresa Rowe, Owen Sound, ON ♣
VOL. 34, NO. 1, AUTUMN 2020
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