South Dakota birthday morning

The assignment was to write a scene from two different points of view. I chose a little boy waking up on the morning of his sixth birthday – First-Person, then Third Person. Which one do you like best?

 

The walls of snow on either side of me, and above my head, glowed bluish-white from the bright sunlight trying to break through the tunnel my father had constructed. I was thrilled to be out of the trailer and on my way to the Rec center for my sixth birthday. The big day had finally come. With each step, I got closer to the party and presents. I had been looking forward to this day for weeks.

We emerged from the tunnel onto the snow-covered Main Street of the trailer park. The brilliant white scene scorched my eyes, but reflected my feelings of elation. I giggled and laughed when my father tossed a snowball at my mother and she yelled at him, proclaiming that the cake was in jeopardy of being dumped onto the icy sidewalk.

I was a long way from the total despair I had felt the night before. I had never heard the wind blow so strongly, nor felt the chill as close. When my father put me to bed, he had assured me that the storm would pass and that everything would be fine tomorrow.

"You'll be six years old tomorrow, growing up fast," he had said. "Now be a good little man and go to sleep."

I loved the closeness of him, being called a "little man." I felt grown-up already. I believed him, without question. My birthday party would go on as planned. As anticipation left and childhood exhaustion took over, I slept soundly.

 

Third Person POV:

 

The Dakota blizzard of 1964 was one of the worst in recent memory. The fierce North winds had brought freezing temperatures and snowdrifts tall enough to cover entire buildings. Residents were trapped inside their homes without electricity or running water. Mr. Johnson was one of the first in the small trailer park just outside of Rapid City, South Dakota, to dig out. He had woken up before dawn and burrowed a tunnel through the snow and ice. It emptied twenty yards from his front door onto the main street.

Billy, his six-year-old son, was thrilled to be out of the trailer and on his way to his birthday party at the Rec center. Each step through the tunnel brought him closer to his friends, the party and the presents he had been anticipating for several weeks. As the small family emerged from the tunnel, the bright sunlight scorched their eyes. They blinked and squinted, taking in as much of the white scene as possible.

Billy was overjoyed. He giggled and laughed when his father tossed a snowball at his mother and she yelled at him, proclaiming that the cake was in jeopardy of falling onto the icy sidewalk. The joy he felt was a long way from the total despair he had felt the night before. His father's reassuring words had waylaid his fears, and still resonated within, "you're growing up fast, now go to sleep little man."

Mrs. Johnson felt relieved that the storm was over, but worried if she had enough gas and supplies to keep the family fed for the next few days. From the look of the snow, it would be at least three days before the roads would be cleared.

Mr. Johnson was tired from digging the tunnel, but it was worth it to see the smile on his son's face and laughter in the air. He told himself to enjoy the moment and worry about the inevitable damage to his lumberyard later.