A Spare Key is Key by Jack Sadeghpour

​When you are only seven years old, and you are locked out of the house during a gigantic blizzard, it is entirely normal to freak out. Then again, you do not really have to be seven to go into an all-out panic mode in that situation. “Wow, it’s a blizzard, mommy!” I sprinted out the door to play in the snow. My dad was on a business trip in Orlando and my mom was shoveling snow. Unbeknownst to me, the door was locked, and as I closed it, I ultimately sealed my mom and my fate to freeze.

“Weeee!” I yelled, as I plopped down into the snow that had such high drifts it looked like mountains of powdered sugar. As I jumped and frolicked through what was a winter wonder land, I dove into snow and giggled and chuckled, because of the pure enjoyment I was having. After making a grand total of 37 snow angels, 49 snow balls, and 3 snowmen, I was ready to head in the warm, toasty house with snow still grabbing at my flesh. As I go to turn the knob, I suddenly felt a sense of panic. “Mommy!” I yelled, “The door is locked!”
She replied with an equally as nervous, “What?” “The door… it’s…it’s locked.”

So there we are huddling to stay warm for almost an hour. Then, as if God wished to help, the house across the street lights turned on. My mom bravely headed over to use their phone to call another neighbor who had a spare key to our house. The chilling wind was pushing my mom left and right as I sat at the door and watched in silence. As my mom came back, I got up and followed her to meet with our savor. We had to meet the second neighbor half of the way between her yard and our yard since the drifts were so high.  It was almost impossible to meet with one another with the howling wind, but we managed to still get the key. I guess a spare key is key.