He is the only one who stands outside. I am the only one who understands him. One lonely snowman with twig arms and a button nose like mine. One who should not stand alone, but is. One impulse creation shaped by me. From my room, I can hear his sobs, but Mom just ignores him and tells me to go back to sleep.

His mission is to persevere. He outlasts barbarous blizzards from the sky. He endures freezing temperatures and shields his crystalline face between Mom’s knitted scarf and warms his hands with cashmere mittens. This is how he stays.

Let him forget his reason for being, he’d melt like a popsicle in the microwave, leaving behind a puddle. Stay, stay, stay I say when the temperature rises. He remains.
   

When I am too awake to go to sleep, when I have no one else to play with, then I frolic with the snowman. When all the other snow is melted in my yard. One who refuses to give up.  One whose only reason is to stay and keep me company.