Snow

The air was crisp on my skin. Even through the layers I could feel it’s chill. Long sleeves, sweaters, and thick thermal winter coats couldn’t stop the cold from causing an outbreak of bumps to travel like cascading waves over my body. Still despite the torture I put myself in, there was something to enjoy about the chilling wind on my chapped and rosy cheeks.

It had been a long winter and mom hadn’t allowed us out in the yard for weeks. Even though the sun shined through thin clouds, I was still told to wear all the protective gear. Long johns, jeans, sweaters, mittens, weather-resistant mittens over those mittens, a hat and a hood and finally a scarf that covered my face leaving only my eyes visible. I had managed to talk my way out of the cover-alls and thick rubber boots given the ground wasn’t even damp from the most recent storm. Still I felt less like a cooped up kid and more like a marshmallow unable to move or bend but simply stand resembling some kind of chubby tree planted in our yard.

I managed to uncover my face when she wasn’t looking. I wanted to feel whatever warmth I could from the sun on my skin and it was impossible to do so hidden under fabric and stuffing.

The warmth of the sun used to feel like that first taste of an ice cream sundae when you haven’t had one in who knows how long. It is like remembering why you take the time to pull out all the flavors of ice creams and syrups, the cherries, whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate chips and bananas knowing mom is going to make you clean up all the dishes. Knowing it is going to give you a stomachache, but in the moment of that first bite you are completely convinced you will eat nothing else for the rest of your life. It is knowing that the long periods between tasting it and having to clean up are so worth it just to experience that perfect bite all over again.

Now the warmth of the sun feels like a kiss. It feels like a kiss from the girl I’ve loved since third grade when she called me gross for giving her a worm in a paper box. It warms my insides in a way I never knew possible. In the same way I imagine a kiss from her feels. Maybe one day I’ll know for sure, but right now I am convinced the only way to adequately explain how the warmth and the glow of the dull sun feels on my bare cheeks is like a kiss from the brown-eyed girl with skin more luscious than any syrup I could pile onto a mountain of ice cream.

In the moment of bliss, basking in the dull glow of the sun and imagining a future with her, I don’t hear my mom yelling.

She is standing behind the screen door with her sweater pulled tightly over her chest and calling my name. She says it softly the first time, but when she is forced to repeat it a third time I feel the warmth of her inevitable wrath burning hotter than the sun on my backside.

“Yeah, what? What’s going on?” I open my eyes, squinting. I manage to waddle my way to face her when she gives me an exuberated sigh.

“You should have your face covered, sweetie. It isn’t safe.”

“It’s fine, mom.”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“I just wanted to feel the sun. What little I can through the clouds.” I say.

“Exactly my point. These clouds have me worried. The weather could change at any moment.” Her eyes drift upward as she grasps her sweater tighter and the lines on her forehead deepen.

“Don’t worry about it. There is no snow in the forecast for at least a few days. I’ve checked the reports a dozen times before coming out.” I look at the sky. While there is little blue appearing the cloud are not thick enough to produce anything that would worry me. Still my mom takes her occupation as a Hazardous Life Consultant seriously.

“I never trust those forecasts,” she says. Her eyes come back to me and she seems more assertive in her desire to bring me inside. “Why don’t you come in and warm up anyways? You can get sunlight from the window with a cup of cocoa.”

“I just got out here,” I protest.

“Taylor, I really wish you wouldn’t argue with me.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m compromising. Just give me a few more moments and I’ll come in. Isn’t sunshine and outdoors supposed to be good for us? Vitamin D and all that?”

“Yeah, well that was before the sky started producing acid in the form of light fluffy snowflakes that will eat your skin off in a moment.” She shivered, but I had a feeling it wasn’t from the cold air.

“Don’t be dramatic,” I said. My face scrunched into a wince as the words fell from my lips. I wished I could take them back, but it was too late. She had heard them and was staring at me with such intent I felt my soul briefly leave my body.

She stumbled over her words for a moment as she began to open the door, but stood giving the sky a worrisome look then full simmering rage and wounded heart back at me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“What about Caleb, Taylor? What about him!”

“I know I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It didn’t matter how many times I apologized. I would be getting cucumber soup for dinner and the silent treatment for the rest of the night.

I deserved both.

“Do you even remember what he looked like whe—“

“I said I’m sorry!” I yelled and felt the air leave my lungs. “I know. I know. You don’t have to… just… I know. Please. I’m sorry. Okay? I’ll come inside.”

She pulled her sweater tight under crossed arms once again and I watched her wipe a brief tear from her eye. “Yes, do that.”

I watched the ground as I moved stiffly toward the door of our modest cabin. My slow pace had less to do with my immobilizing layers and more to do with my reluctance to face my mother and her red eyes. I keep my gaze low for this same reason.

But when I heard her draw a sharp breath I looked up.

Her face was pale framing her red and wide eyes like an old caricature of a weeping ghost. Her arms had fallen from her sweater heavy and shaking as she reached to push the door open her mouth forming my name.

Her eyes were wide, wide with terror as they looked over my head to the clouded sky.

It was a reflex. The reflex should have been to run to my crying mother who reached for me and called my name. It should have been to follow her natural instinct to protect me. But instead my reflex was to raise my eyes to white sky, blinding by its radiance and squinting, to see what she could possibly be looking at.

It landed like a kiss on my cheek. A small kiss of a cherub with mocha skin and brown eyes. On my numb cheek, I barely felt the bit of the cold, but it was there, subtle. In briefest of moments I truly imagined this tiny fleck of powder to be the kiss I desire, but in the moment the cold bit had faded it felt it.

It came as a warmth not in my stomach but on my cheeks that burning slightly but then radiated to a heat I had never experienced before. Burning, pulsating, and sizzling away at layers of my dermas. When my mitten finally made contact to wipe it away it was too late. I felt the burning fall deeper into my skin and now other insidious kisses were placed on my exposed cheeks.

I could only look to my horror-stricken mother as white flakes filled the air like fairies lights in an enchanted winter wonderland.

“I just wanted to feel the sun,” I uttered.