We knew it was dangerous, and we knew it could’ve waited. The glistening snow left a blanket to cover the ground with freezing ice droplets. Of course, all children were excited, knowing their school would have to be cancelled. Parents were excited also, being able to take a day off from work and being with the family. The atmosphere was one like a carnival, bright and happy. Mom, Dad, my sister, and I all walk out of the house and into the old blue SUV with the icicles hanging on the back and fluffy snow plopped on the windshield. We all walk slowly, grasping the closest thing to us to break our fall. My sister, fortunately, didn’t catch the car door soon enough, and slipped on the almost invisible ice. Knowing her, she broke out crying, and my parents carried her into the back seat and told her to shut up, or so I hoped they would tell her. Buckled in and ready to go, we slowly backed out of the slippery driveway.

The heat was on full blast, sending relief to my crimson cheeks and snow-burnt fingers. The snow in our shoes slowly melted until our feet were swimming in a puddle left in our shoes. That, sadly, sent my sister into another crying fit about how her toes were cold and wet and how she wanted to go home. Mom, on the other hand, took off her shoes and began discussing the ride with my dad

“You know it’s dangerous to drive out here,” she mumbles, so we can’t hear her and worry.

“Meh, it’s fine. Just watch,” was his reply, his eyes concentrating on the windshield being pelted by small snowflakes.

Slowly, the happy atmosphere was sucked out of the car as if someone left the windows open. There was the annoyed father, the frustrated mother, the crying sister, and me, the one panicking in the back seat but attempting to muster a smile. At least I still make an attempt to show I’m not worried. Nobody joined in, and I slowly sunk into my puffy lavender coat and pulled the fur cap over my ears.

Every time the car would stop on a red light, it sent a signal to my brain telling me to get out of the car. I knew it wasn’t safe. Every curve sent me into a silent heaving fit. About ten minutes away from our destination, the car curved up onto a bridge. I could feel my dad stepping on the gas pedal as we went up, and I felt the need to go to the restroom. Reaching the peak of the bridge, I felt myself relax bit by bit as I thought the ride was getting safer. Suddenly, a car came from behind, swerving out of control and hitting the bumper of our big SUV. That sent the car into a slippery run, sending us into the concrete wall on the side, and hearing the front of the vehicle drop and break. The shrieks of my sister, the tense grip on the door of my mother, the determined look on my dad’s face as he tries to stop the car, and then there’s me. Sitting on the foot area of the back seat, panicking and trying to be safe. Finally being flung off the icy bridge, we stopped in front of an elementary school and a wood furnishing store. It stopped. We were okay. The car, however, was not. It had dents and bumps and scratches and looked deformed. We all step out to get a closer look and find a place to stand, the cold outside becoming unbearable. Dad stayed inside the car, crouched as if he’s trying to contain the little heat he has, and dialing the insurance company. We all hugged, making us warm, not just on the outside, but also on the inside. The fact that we were okay, and we’re not the only ones to have this accident happen.

The slip of the car on ice is a metaphor for life. There are times when things are dangerous and you may slip and crash, but when you get to the bottom, there’s always someone there to help. The car was sent to the company for repair, and we got a backup car for the time being. That car was the support that helps you get places while the other part of you is hurt and needing repair. Everyone has their ups and down, kind of like a bridge. And everyone has the options after the slip, either to get up and ask for help, or stay down and freeze to death.