Blizzard of 2026 Part 2!

We knew it was coming. For days, it was all the talk around, as though nothing else were  happening in the world. The usual pre-storm madness to buy out the store, Armageddon stocks of milk, bread, toilet paper.  But this felt different.

“Did you buy enough candles, batteries, and all the other items we’ll need to survive? Heard it’s going to be a doozy.”

“Of course, we’re all set. Rock salt, shovels, lunch meats, peanut butter… even cooked several large meals to last for several days.   No need to worry, Mom.”

And then that night, it began snowing, and snowing, and snowing, and SNOWING.  The wind sounded like a train roaring through, as though the gods were sending a message.

After several tense hours, sleep finally found me. Then in the wee hours, a knock on my bedroom door awakened me out of my midsummer night’s dream.


Three little dreaded words, “We lost power.”


And I knew that with the storm raging outside, it would not be restored any time soon.

When we attempted to look outside in the morning, we could see nothing. The windows were completely covered with a thick layer of frost that made us feel like we were inside an igloo.

When my son finally got the front door open, the scene was surreal. I had never seen THREE FEET of snow in all my 81 years; and being only five feet tall, I was overwhelmed.


Several layers of clothing, including thermal underwear, sweaters, knit beanies, woolen capes, gloves, and extra socks got me through the next 27 hours, but it was rough going. No reading, no knitting, no journaling, no TV, no cellphones.


The children who were visiting, along with my grandson, were completely lost without their electronic devices. Board games sufficed until it got too dark to play.

Snow-covered trees in a wooded area under a bright blue winter sky.

It took my son all day to clear the driveway, walks, and front steps; but each time the plow passed, it left a mountain of snow blocking the areas he had just shoveled.


The storm has now gone out to sea. Our lives are beginning to return to quasi-normalcy.


We have a greater appreciation for everything. Heat, hot showers, the oven, the microwave, the toaster, the Keurig coffee maker, and especially light by which to read, have internet, and all of those things we have grown accustomed to.


As a family, we grew closer over those few days, and that is the lesson we learned from The Blizzard of ’26.

Dawn Blake Souza

Dawn Blake Souza was born and raised in New Bedford, Massachusetts and attended school in that city until moving to Falmouth, on Cape Cod in her senior year. She graduated from Lawrence High School.

She resided in Falmouth and Mashpee for more than eighteen years and raised her five children there.

An alumna of The University of Massachusetts, Amherst and the Harvard Graduate School of Education, she was a career public school teacher and administrator in Texas, Arizona, and Massachusetts.

After the loss of her husband, Joseph Souza, a retired U. S. Air Force officer, she permanently returned to her hometown.

Dawn spent her entire life as a social and human rights activist, a poet, and public speaker.

After retiring in 2005, she authored five books, including a children’s book that was illustrated by her late husband.

In addition to enjoying creative writing, she spends time doing original folkart and exhibiting locally.

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