Blanket in the Storm

I sit alone now, legs in arms by the window. My cap jutting out, half-covering my eyes giving me a foolish look. My family, the Daltons, moved out into this barren wasteland hoping to settle down and make something of ourselves. Especially because of my pop losing his old job due to the stock market crash about a year ago. Being the youngest means I get spoiled the most. My older brother Michael knows that better than anyone. You see, out here in Oklahoma where there's scarcely a drop of rain to save you from dehydration you take whatever you can get. That's why in our small house with a field of crops for a view my brother and I were fighting over my blanket. He had this condescending voice like somehow he knew better. "George, you're such a baby you know that? We need that blanket to cover one of the windows before the next storm hits or else our house is going to look like the soil out there!" I protested, claiming that it helped me sleep at night. We continued bickering once more until my pa, a broad tall man, one that's presence cannot go unnoticed came stomping into the room. My mama followed just cautiously behind.

"Now, boys that's enough. I've heard just plenty of this argument here." He didn't even have to raise his voice to command respect. He looked down upon us with his disappointed eyes. I could see right through the glasses that signature gaze. After a long silence, I came forward. "Look, pa I...I just wanted to keep my blanket. Michael is trying to stuff it in the window to keep the sand out! What if it ruins it? I can't get another one like it!" My pa, looking directly at me simply said "Son, look around you. There's a lot of things we can't get now." Before I could utter a word he spoke once more. "George turn around and tell me what you see." I did as my father asked and what I saw out there made my blood run cold. What once was a slightly whited out sky with a tree or two keeping watch over the plains was now engulfed in a black, tumbling wall of fog. I could tell it was getting closer, inch by inch. Seizing the land and erasing it.

I could hear my father's voice continue with my back to him as I stared out the window. "Understand what I'm trying to tell you, son? I get it. I realize that blanket means something special to you, and yes, there's a strong chance it might end up in pieces, but think about it like this. If you give Michael that blanket we'll all get to sleep in this house another night without worrying about sand in our sheets. Sure, you'll lose your blanket, but all of us, including you, can avoid having our homestead flipped upside down. On the contrary, if you don't give him that blanket you'll get to keep it, sure. However, you'll be dragging all of us down with you. You'll also have to pay the price of this house being a wreck. Is that what you really want, son? In life, we have to make these sacrifices, even if it isn't a preferable thing to do it's still the right thing to do." Still staring out into the vast, looming storm that seemed to wrap around everything it touched I suddenly realized he was right. With my blanket in hand, I reluctantly passed it over to Michael. "Pa, I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have been so selfish." Then my pa, as Michael covered the window, patted me on the shoulder and said. "It's my job to teach you these things. It's what I do boy. You'll know better when the next storm comes rolling through." Then, as the storm came tumbling down on us, pelting sand at our windows we all stayed safe inside.