Cole O’Donnell, “Lost Snow”

A young kid lost in his own mind. Sitting in his room, not knowing what his next move was, where he wanted to go, what he wanted to do, he knew nothing. It was a dark night out. The wind was whistling in the air. The splashes of light from the street lamps made the beautiful white snow glisten as it blew from side to side in the wind. As the kid wondered, he laid back comfortably on his bed, he sunk into his comforter. The boy took a deep breath, with air filling his lungs then pushing it all out, hoping the stress that was trying to drown him followed. He turned his head to the right to see the long icicles hanging from the roof reflect the light of the back patio. The boy thought to himself, is this really what I want? Once again, lost in thought. The boy’s mind was racing. He felt so pressured to make the decision. He knew he was making the right choice; he has been wanting this. He has been waiting for this. The boy just didn’t know how to say it or how it would make others feel. The boy would ask himself, “Did I let them down? What could the consequences be of making this decision? I know I want to do this; I know I do. I just have no idea how I would even start?” The boy wanted to reach out and say it, but he felt that he was putting his life on the line just to say it, his neck completely exposed, he felt unsafe. The boy’s safe space is his room. It’s his own space, just for him, he doesn’t share it, no harm can be done in there. It was time for them to go. The boy’s dad was looking for him. His dad was searching everywhere, not stressfully, in a calm manner. The boy knew he was looking for him, but he needed to feel safe, he felt ready. The boy’s mind was racing, nervous to how his father would react. The boy’s dad went to put the gear in the car, so they could leave as soon as his son got in. The dad went back to searching, finally making his way up the stairs and into the boy’s room. The boy was waiting, his palms were sweating, his face bright red, the lights were off. The only light in there was from the back patio lights that reflected off the dark wood bed frame onto the boy’s face. The dad makes it into the boy’s room. Curiosity flowing through the father’s head. Quickly processing what was in front of him. He knew his son knew they had to leave, why would he be hiding? Quickly a light bulb flashes in his brain, his son clearly doesn’t want to go. “Hey buddy!” Says the father. “Hi dad.” The boy responds. “Make room I’m sliding under” The father says. The boy nervously shifts to the right to make room under the bed. With the fathers’ sanguine expressions and attitude toward his son, he sensed a ray of comfort and tranquility was casted over him, almost like a spell, the boy knew he could do this. “Are you ready to go?” Says the dad in a nonchalant fashion, knowing something was wrong and wasn’t actually planning on going.

“Dad.” There was a pause. This was it. It felt like time stopped; everything around him stopped. The snow stopped falling, the wind stopped whistling. Everyone and everything was frozen. The boy felt like his dad would be so disappointed, he knew how much this meant to him, to our family. But he had to do it. “I don’t want to play hockey anymore.” All the sudden, that feeling of time freezing, happened again. He felt it come off my lips. He couldn’t hear myself say it, didn’t feel or hear anything come out of his mouth. Only thing he felt was his mouth move. The boy slowly, nervously looked up. “Is this really how you feel?” says the dad. “Yes.” “That’s totally fine.” The boy had a smile come across his face. He felt like he could fly. The weight lifted off the boy’s shoulders. His heart stopped pounding.The support of the boy’s father gave him a feeling he couldn’t explain. That no matter what, the boy felt safe. The boy felt like he could do anything. For the first time, the boy’s brain wasn’t constantly pounding on the walls of his head yelling at him to do something, or making the boy feel anxious. The boy went back to his Legos, happy as can be. Time went by, years. The boy was 17 years old. Passed out on the floor. For some reason out of all the times he has passed out, this time he has this flashback. The day he told his dad. He wanted to do nothing in his life. The loss of passion and motivation. The boy had an extremely addictive personality, and when he found himself doing nothing, his brain led him to trouble. The day where he decided to stop doing something, which in that case was hockey, was the worst decision the boy has ever made. Constantly finding himself wondering, what to do with himself. He never had that problem when he was younger. Which was one of the main reasons why he stopped playing. The boy is filled with emotions, the same ones he was clouded with when he was younger, along with new ones that constantly dragged the boy down. For some reason, The boy still couldn’t figure out why he had that flashback. He missed his old self. What he would do to feel that sort of comfort from his father. The drugs gave the boy something to do, and a sort of comfort. The boy was always in his own head, it would eat him alive. The drugs would take his brain somewhere else. He was hooked, addicted. This flashback wasn’t a warning. The boy has gotten multiple warnings, the addiction overtook him. He felt like the drugs were helping him, while they were his worst enemy. That flashback caused from the drugs was pushed to his brain. To show him what his life could have been; the drugs knew this was it for him, so the last thing to show him was how good life could have been.

Cole O’Donnell ’23