Snow

A snowdrift evening frames the feeling of what it is to lose that which meant so much to you in this world.

Snowflakes drifted down from the quiet sky of a peaceful night. A night where the moon proudly passed it's lunar guidance over the land and the stars glittered like shards of crystal against the ebon canvas. Yet the peace did not reach the lone boy who stood shoeless amongst the snow, clothed by brown cloaks tied together to form a patchwork jacket. His amber eyes were worn from what had brought him to this place. There was no reason for someone his age to be out like this. To him, however, this place was all he had left of what he once called home.

He reached forward and brushed patches of snow away from a buried object. It soon became clear that what hid beneath was a stone. As more of the snow was cleared away, words quickly became apparent, and he read them with the silent movement of his lips.

<Sandra Lockhart, June 14th, 1833 to April 26th, 1862>

"We Will Always Remember You..." he read in a soft whisper. It was a promise, to never forget her even when she was gone. To never forget the soothing, crisp scents of her home-made cinnamon teas, the comfort and love that was woven into every encouraging word she ever spoke, and the graceful patience with which she had raised him, sternly disciplined yet forgiven for his mishaps as well as her unrestrained pride in his accomplishments, no matter how small.

His fingers swept over those words, coming to rest upon <You>. If only that word could take him to her. If only that word could place him back in the arms of a person who'd given him smiles, given him dances, given him laughter and life. His body trembled as he pressed his finger harder and harder against the stone, until the skin turned white.

The cold of the night air mixed with the lifeless marker of his Mother's final resting place, and even in his mind the memories of her calming presence were not enough to drive the shivers from his body. Frost swept through his veins, and he grimaced as his extremities began to burn from the pain.

In a way, he was glad that nobody came here to look for him. He did not want to return to the barren, empty house of his birth, to be watched over by an Aunt who usually had better things to do. Nobody thought much of him, but here, in this cold, snowy place, rested the last remnants of someone who cherished him, in mind, body, and spirit.

As his head descended upon a frosty pillow, he pushed himself closer to the stone, hands clutched together at his chest and head tucked low. His eyes came to a quiet close, and soon it was that each breath he took came further and further apart. The world around him became numb, but deep inside he started to feel warm again as he heard her whispered affection. Though his vision was dim and blurry, he could not help but to smile as she leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

A slim vestige of moonlight sparkled against a tiny crystal that rested in the corner of his eye, and the young boy fell asleep.

Author's Note

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