The Snowman This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

April 29, 2011
One cold morning I woke up from my cocoon of quilts and blankets and found that outside my frost covered window it was snowing. I paused, and listened to the pitter-patter of the snowflakes that landed and settled on the glass of the window. I was attracted by the blinding white that covered the earth and surrounded my house. The scene promised bodies sinking knee-deep into snow, backaches from shoveling, and chills. I suddenly drew my cocoon tighter around me, disturbing the silence that comes during a snow fall. The silence was present because no one was outside; there were no cars honking down the street, no bells chiming from the church down the street. I surveyed the landscape outside, seeing no birds or small animals in sight. As I cast my eyes downward to the street, I noticed something moving. A little girl with bright red hair, a bright pink jacket, pink gloves, and black snow pants was building something in snow. Her house was on the corner, where our quiet street met a usually busy road. She was rolling and patting a chunk of snow. I watched for the longest time, my breath fogging up the window until I could no longer see outside. I swiped my hand against the cool glass and noticed that she had built a big snowman right on the corner, and it seemed to greet the now empty road. The little girl ran inside for a moment, came out carrying a red scarf and a red hat, and put both on the snowman. Her face expressed satisfaction that came in the shape of a big smile that reached ear to ear, and I suddenly regretted being wrapped up in my blankets; I wanted to join her in her joy and fun. I could hear faintly her mother calling her in, Luuucyyy, and I watch as she gave a big kiss on the snowman’s cheek and run inside. For an instant it seemed to me that he was grinning.

The next few days became more normal. Winter couldn’t stop this busy town for long. People no longer slunk into their homes, but instead slide around on the roads again once the monstrous plows had cleared their way through the town. Yet the pleasant sight of a cheerful snowman wrapped up in a red scarf and a red hat seemed to spin magic onto the passengers of the cars passing by. Some people would look out of their windows and smile, but as the days went on people ended up turning into our street to admire the silly man made of snow. The little girl was already in school by the time people pulled in in front of her house to appreciate her sweet work. The passengers unbuckled themselves from their running cars and step out for a few minutes to give a kiss to the snowman. It seemed like an odd thing, but ever since I had seen the little girl kiss the snowman the day she built him, others seemed to follow in her footsteps to kiss him. I smiled with curiosity at how such a small act of tenderness spread to every passerby. It brought out people from their caged in cars to laugh and hug in the snow and kiss the snowman. I wondered what they would do when the temperature rose, as the forecast predicted. What would they do when it stopped snowing, and the snowman began to fade away? I wondered if they would try to save him, or if they would let him slip away as they went back into their ordinary lives.

One cold morning I woke up from my cocoon of quilts and blankets and found that outside my frost covered window it was snowing. I paused, and listened to the pitter-patter of the snowflakes that landed and settled on the glass of the window. I was attracted by the blinding white that covered the earth and surrounded my house. The scene promised bodies sinking knee-deep into snow, backaches from shoveling, and chills. I suddenly drew my cocoon tighter around me, disturbing the silence that comes during a snow fall. After a few minutes, I lightly got out of bed and dressed myself. I pulled on a red hat over my red hair, put on my boots, and stepped outside. The cold hit me like a gust, but my eyes landed on something across the street and my heart warmed inside. I clomped my way to the corner of my street and came to stand in front of the little girl’s snowman. I stepped up close, and in an instant I pressed my mouth against his cold cheek. I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I glanced up at the house. A curtain was pulled back in the top floor window, and the little girl’s face was pressed up against the glass. Her red hair fell all about her face; she looked like she had just woken up. She smiled a big grin, and I waved up at her through the snowflakes falling down from the sky.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback