When you're trapped in an igloo, there is not much you can do alone. The Saturday before last I decided to build an igloo in my backyard. It was not my best decision, for many reasons, but the house was devoid of life and a large snowstorm had just blown through. Fresh, powder white snow smothered all green for as far as the eye could see. The storm had left hours ago, and light snowflakes fell from the sky in its place. The untouched powder was too tempting to not give into, and once I started building the igloo, I couldn’t stop. I was too focused on packing the snow into cubes with a cheap brick mold from Walmart to notice the clouds merging together above me. Too enchanted by the glittering patterns in the snow to realize it had started to fall faster, stronger, colder… By the time I finished the roof of the igloo, I was exhausted, and felt sleep tugging at my eyelids. I let myself drift into a slumber beneath the fresh igloo. This was my second major mistake of the night. 

The loud gusts of wind beating against the unsteady wall is what woke me. Despite the howling wind outside, I felt warm. I groggily sat up and felt my pockets for my phone - the igloo was pitch black. Turning on my flashlight, my eyes adjusted to the white planes before me. The opening I left as a makeshift door was gone - replaced only by white. Beginning to panic, I started to dig through the wall. Layers upon layers of snow were pushed out of the way before I broke through - and immediately regretted my decision. A burst of cold wind crashed into my face, burning my nose and ears. Frantically, I shoved snow back into the gap. Going outside was not an option, but was staying in the igloo any better? I contemplated the pros and cons of each, and the only good idea I had all night sprung into my mind: call my parents. After all, when you’re trapped in an igloo, there is not much you can do without help.