Snow-and other collections

Snow

Snow

Ghost

I've always loved snow, ever since I can recall. Even now at 21, I can appreciate the beauty of the thick snow in Maryland. My mother would always say to me "Crystal, you love snow so much, it'll probably be your grave." I'm not sure if I should have taken that with a tone of fear, or just laughed it off, but she was probably right.

The winter has been harsh this year, one of the harshest the state has seen in a while, but I still stare in amazement as the gentle, white crystals float gracefully to the ground and join its family. I turn away for just one moment to look at the mountain of college work and bills that smother my desk, and then towards my mother's picture. Walking towards my desk, I pick up the photograph, wishing she was here with me. Don't worry, I think to myself as I stoke my mother's face, we'll be together again someday.

I'm interrupted by the beeping of my cellphone letting me know I have a new email. Five new emails actually: three birthday notifications, a promotion for Amazon, and a message from my English professor reminding his class of the test coming in a few days. I forgot all about the test. My notes are somewhere in the myriad of papers on my desk, or maybe still crammed in my almost full, white backpack that's about to burst at the seams. I remove my glasses and rub my eyes thinking of how I could use a break.

A break. A release. I look at my desk entombed in papers, then to my phone, and then my mom. A break is what I need. I grab my white coat and remove my mother from her frame, and exit my apartment, heading down a path already trudged by previous walkers. I decide the best place to go is the old trail. It's silent and no one else is likely to bother me.

I lean my head back and stick out my tongue, hoping to catch one of the graceful crystals. One lands on my tongue and tastes seemingly sweet. I close my eyes and allow myself to hear my mother's voice coming once again. It's coming so clearly that I can almost feel her.

"Crystal?" My mothers voice calls out to me. "Crystal?"

I'm five again, and my mother is searching for me. She doesn't know that I walked outside an am watching the snow fall to the ground. I have on my puffy white coat and snow boots to keep me warm, but not much else.

"Crystal?" My mother calls me once again, but I don't respond. I'm too fascinated by the beautiful flurries. "Crys, what are you doing out here in this bitter cold weather?"

"It's so pretty, Mommy," I finally say without once looking at my mother. I instead stick out a hand to try and catch a snow flake. Next moment, I feel the warmth of my mother's arm wrapping around me and the smell of the beef stew she has been cooking earlier.

"Yeah, it is beautiful," my mother says softly and holds out a hand. "You know, no two flakes are alike."

"Really?" I ask my mother and look at her for the first time. She smiles lovingly at me.

"God gives every snow crystal a different design," my mother responds.

"Wow," I respond softly, almost in a whisper. I look at the ground, and then at the sky, and then add, "That's a lot of different designs."

My mother just laughs and nods at me. "I've also heard that he gives every single snow a little taste of sugar before he sends it down to us."

I smile and stare upward. Sticking out my tongue, I hope to try and taste one, but it lands on my nose instead. I look at my mother again and she chuckles.

"And you're my favorite little snow crystal," she says as she picks me up in her arms and spins me in the falling flurries. I giggle happily as she does, and then she brings me close to her in a tight hug.

"Mommy?" I call my mother's name. She looks at me with her warming, blue eyes and I continue. "Do you think it snows in heaven?"

"I sure it does," my mother grins, bearing her gracefully defined dimples. "Don't see why not."

"Do you think Daddy can see the snow?" I ask.

My mother sighs softly as she slowly lowers me down. "Honey, I know you miss your father, I do too. But he's always with us in spirit." My mother presses her hand into my chest, and then reaches out to catch a snow flake. "So long as it snows, we'll always be with you."

I open my eyes and am 21 again. I'm at the end of the old trail and the snow is falling a bit harder, but I don't mind it. I just turn around and jump into the large pile of snow in front of me. It feels ironically warm in the snow, as if it's welcoming me to join. I smile as I take my mother's picture from my chest pocket.

"Hey mom," I stroke her face as the snow surrounds me, "I finally feel peace."