Day 275: October 2nd. It has been twenty-two years since my big brother, Mark, passed away, and I’m reminiscing. Not about his death, or how awful it was to lose him just months after we lost Mom. Not today. Today, I’m thinking about a happy memory of him.
When I was 16, David took me on our first date. Thanksgiving Eve. If you’re curious, the whole awkward tale is in last year’s Thanksgiving Eve post.
It was a miracle that he asked me out on a second date, but he did, to a Saturday night church dance. It was early December, and another huge snowstorm was headed our way. My mother, in her wisdom, discouraged the outing, fearing the roads wouldn’t be safe.
After begging repeatedly not to make me break the date, she finally consented, but only if I wore my “big” coat and took my moon boots with me. For those too young, moon boots looked like the boots the astronauts wore while taking their first steps for mankind. Not cute. Especially for a second date.
David picked me up, I put my boots in the trunk, and we went to the dance, but when we were on the way home, it was snowing, and when we turned off the highway onto East Milo Road, there were drifts across the road. Big drifts.
David, in all of his sixteen-year-old bravado, said “No problem. If I hit them going fast, we can break right through.”
Well, we broke through the first two or three, and then we hit a larger drift, and it sent us airborne to land in the middle of the next drift. We were embedded. There was no moving the car.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I retrieved my moon boots from the trunk. I offered to walk to my home and get help, but David insisted on accompanying me, even though he had no moon boots. We arrived at home, the lights blaring through the windows, after 1:30 a.m.
Mom and Dad were quick to welcome us. Mom had hot chocolate in her Snoopy “This Has Been a Good Day” mugs and a stack of hot buttered toast on the table. She also had blankets and dry socks ready for us. She had “seen the headlights,” which meant she had been watching at the window for us. I felt horrible for not listening to her, but she never said “I told you so.”
David laughed at the mugs. “Has this been a good day?”
When I cringed, he was quick to laugh, but I silently cursed Snoopy’s optimistic expression.
When we described the depth of the stuck vehicle, Dad declared that we would need the tractor, which was up the road at Mark’s.
So, at 2:00 in the morning, Dad called Mark and asked him to bring the tractor down to help us.
When Mark arrived, he was not especially happy about being awakened and summoned to go out into a snowstorm with farm machinery.
He walked into the house and said “Jana Banana, what have you done?”
When I explained, he looked at David and said “You should have made her walk from the highway.” Well, that was true.
I looked at David’s face and knew that there would NEVER be a third date.
Mark then looked at Mom and said “Nice mugs.”
Mom just smiled.
David and I crammed into the cab of the tractor with Mark and he drove us down the road to the car, and then used the scoop thingie to shovel out the car. (My apologies to my brothers for not remembering the correct names for tractor parts.)
Mark then drove to the highway with the tractor, clearing a path for David to escape from East Milo Road. When we reached the highway and David went around us to the road, he turned and waved before he drove off. Mark smirked at me and said “Do you like him?”
I rolled my eyes. “Does it matter? After tonight, he’ll probably never speak to me again.”
And then Mark said the thing I’ll never forget. “If a night like this scares him away, then you caught a break. My little sister deserves somebody who appreciates her Mom serving hot chocolate in a snowstorm.”
We were almost back to Mom and Dad’s by then. “Does hot chocolate make up for living way out here in the middle of nowhere?”
He shrugged it off. “He seemed to think so. He’ll be back. He ate four pieces of toast.”
“To be fair, Mom’s homemade whole-wheat toast is pretty irresistible, especially with a cup of her hot chocolate.”
“Sure, the toast is good, but it’s that he felt comfortable enough to eat four pieces of toast that’s the clue. He felt comfortable around you, even in the middle of the night in a snowstorm with your crazy family watching. You’ll be hearing from him. And if you don’t, it’s his loss. You’re the coolest little sister I’ve got.”
“I’m the only little sister you’ve got.”
“Yeah, well, it’ll still be his loss.”
He dropped me off at the mailbox and continued to his home without me. I ran into the house, feeling all sorts of emotions, but the fact that my big brother said I was cool was the reason I got any sleep that night.
Me and my moon boots made our way into the house. Mom and Dad were still up. We sat down and ate toast and drank hot chocolate from cheesy Snoopy mugs, and I said a silent prayer of thanks for the family Heavenly Father had sent me to in the middle of nowhere.
Last week, the theme was “Things I would call Mom to say if I could” and today I’m thinking that if I could call Mark, I would say “Remember that talk in the tractor cab? You made me feel worth braving a snowstorm for. That was a pretty awesome thing to do. I hope Mom gets to make her toast and cocoa in heaven, just for you.”
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