“Drip. Drip. Drip.”
I pressed my back further into the wall – not scared, exactly, but certainly needing to feel something solid and impenetrable behind me. An LED flashlight in an eye-watering shade of red glowed on the table above. A massive store of snacks – the compilation of many meager contributions by various party members – was amassed into a tall pile of cheese and crackers, caramel popcorn, ten types of trail mix and a family-size package of oreos, more fruit snacks than can be conceived by the human mind, a plethora of sugary cereals, and a fast-disappearing bin of animal crackers. I shivered beneath three layers of clothing and searched for a spare corner of someone’s blanket with which I could cover myself further – there was none available. A feeling of both warmth and weary filled my body as I drew my knees into my chest and listened to the story.
“Drip. Drip. Drip.”
The above events transpired one evening during the recent Great Texas Snowstorm of 2021. Gone were our joyous romps in the soft white powder of just a few days prior, we – by which I mean, my friends and I – were cold, tired, anxious, and in constant search of food. We had no power, no heat, little to eat in the way of real sustenance (grocery stores were shut down and the few open dining halls were struggling to keep up with demand), and multiple residence halls had fallen victim to pipes that burst from the cold… an unfortunate occurrence that forced those affected students to be evacuated to the one dormitory where students with Covid-19 were quarantined. Because yes, throughout all of this, I remain a college freshman in the midst of a global pandemic.
I do not mean to indulge in self-pity, nor do I wish for the pity of others. I write these words with a small smile, simply because while that week drained me mentally, physically, and emotionally, it was also a truly wonderful experience.
I am an unashamed hopeless romantic – I believe wholly in an idealistic world and long to live in the reality of fantasy. Perhaps it is this tendency that leads me to exist in a place of constant dreaming, of reaching for a world that is disconnected from actuality and on another plane. Likely such an inclination is fraught with a great many adverse effects, but in addition to whatever these may be, to be a dreamer is to acknowledge when life takes on a dreamlike quality. The week of the Great Texas Snowstorm of 2021 was certainly akin to a dream, or novel, or any great story.
An incredible tale is defined not by how formidable are one’s fallen foes, but by the charged power of each individual moment. Greatness is measured by the impact the story has upon its audience; the inexorable manner in which the lines between truth and fiction, hero and beholder, are blurred, the way somewhere deep within us we are inspired to view our mundane lives through the lens of adventure and magic.
That week, our isolation was the instigator of a great story. Slowly freezing in dark rooms and utterly lacking in agency over what would become of our fates, my friends and I ascended into the realm of adventure. We indeed faced immense obstacles, obstacles as colossal as would be faced by any dragon-slaying chevalier, and the memory of my immobile fingers unable to catch me as I slid down icy hills in search of Goldfish and canned soup will not soon be forgotten. But these challenges to be overcome were not the defining aspects of our journey. Indeed, when confronted with such adversaries as the ice and rumblings of our stomachs, my friends and I were catapulted into another plane of existence – we ceased to be silly students and became heroes with roles and responsibilities to be upheld on the coming expedition. Our odyssey was brought about by obstacles, but it was not characterised by our defeat of them. Instead, it was defined by the transformations which occurred during and the moments throughout.
I do not pretend to believe that you, Reader, would be at all interested in the trivial details of what surpassed that week in the basement study room of my residence hall, and such information hardly matters. But I am sure you are acquainted with the fleeting feeling of suddenly existing in a place of heightened stakes, of great thrill, of enormous duty. Staring as do fair maidens in towers through frosted windows at a world unrecognizable – both on account of the forgein powder covering the earth, and its newly-acquired ethereal qualities – there was a shift. Circumstances odd yet not aberrant became extraordinary as our stories ceased to exist around us and instead rooted themselves within us. Our individual lives converged to weave a fantastic tapestry in which each of us upheld the others; fulfilling and modifying roles necessitated by our quest, exchanging and sharing leadership, marching forward together. Each moment was charged with the electricity of people who are fully present and fiercely connected. As misfit travellers embark upon toadstool-lined paths, so did we fight our way through antagonistic forces in an adamantine display of lionhearted unity.
In the fear, there was joy. In the darkness, there was the faint glow of reassuring light. In the uncertainty, there was something enigmatic, something wonderful in the closeness brought about by an experience had not as individuals, but as an army. Reigning supreme over the adverse was the sense of adventure which made our journey remarkable, bringing with it resounding forces of courage, love, and togetherness. It is from this reality a fantastic fable was born.
Sitting in the frigid basement, unable to discern if the chills on my spine were brought about by mediocre ghost stories or the plummeting temperatures, I was warm in my weary. How could I not be? I was traversing the great unknown, living fully in each terrifying second, facing my opposition with indomitable valiance and the unwavering armor that was my friends. It was a week characterized by the mythic qualities of reality.
I know such was not the experience of many, and my intent is in no way to make light of the severity of the suffering faced by millions of Texans. I was fortunate enough to be safe and experience minor impediments to my normal life, and for this reason alone was I able to appreciate the resulting bonds formed among my friends. Please find at the bottom of this post links to Texas relief funds, should you feel inclined to donate.
I hope we all continue to strive to see our lives as great adventures worthy of the most honored of heroes. There is no greater privilege than that of a fantastic journey, and as such, I congratulate and bid you farewell as you pursue your own. Hopefully you encounter very little snow.
Love,
Lettie Anne
Texas Relief Funds
Austin Mutual Aid (Austin, Texas) – https://www.gofundme.com/f/kick-the-cold-austin-mutal-aid
Houston Mutual Aid (Houston, Texas) – https://www.gofundme.com/f/mutualaidhou
The Family Place, who reported burst pipes and had to relocate (Dallas, Texas) – https://www.familyplace.org/donation/donate
Casa Marianella (Austin, Texas) – https://www.casamarianella.org/
Lucha Dallas (Dallas, Texas) – https://www.instagram.com/luchadallas/
Photo from ebay on Pinterest.