Growing up, I lived in a house with a driveway stretching long and uphill to the main road. It was a streak of pavement that turned bright and dark after snow dusted it and sun melted dust to black. When snow was heavy, I wore boots and learned to shovel it in two strips with my Dad.
But sometimes ice settled anyway. If guests couldn’t drive themselves out, it was my Mom who came out to sit upright behind their wheel. We pushed, of course, but my Mom could drive out of anything – which is probably a metaphor for something.
For more flashes prompted by this photo, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and go exploring.