Snow

[a silliness]

Once upon a winter, a village woke up to find itself covered with snow.

The people were not worried, as they were well prepared - they had enough food for their stomachs, enough wood for their fire, enough fodder for their animals. Still, the adults reached for their shovels all the same - trails had to be broken, just in case.

And as for their children... oh, how happy they were with this sudden gift from the heavens! Snow! Fluffy, feathery snow!! Perfect for snowballs, and snowmen, and snowforts!

By midday, the village children had managed to build a proper fortress, to raise a proper army and to have a proper war. Their mothers had to call them twice and even thrice to remind them to come home for lunch or at least for a change of clothes. And though their fathers appeared to smile with indulgence, they actually sighed with jealousy - why, each and every one of these grown men would trade his shovel for a snowball in a heartbeat! But nobody wanted their shovels, so they were stuck with them.

Yes, the village children were the happiest children in the world that day, but one particular child was by far the happiest.

She was less a child and more of a maiden, in the same way a bud can be less of a flower and more of a fruit. She did not partake in the other children's games. Instead, she hid herself behind her parents' house, among the fruit-trees and the flower-beds where nobody could see and nobody would look, and there she made a single snowman.

A single snowman, yes, but what a snowman that was! Tall and gainly, with broad shoulders and subtle curls, with deep eyes and full lips... The girl's hands worked on her snowman as gently as only a girl's hands could. And when he finally resembled her dreams as much as a pile of snow ever could, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth.

She kissed him until her lips hurt, and she kissed him on the following day, and she kissed him on the day after. She would have probably kissed him until springtime, but on the fourth day she did not so much as glance at him - in fact, she did not leave her bed, nevermind her house, as she had fallen ill.

By the time her illness ended, so had the winter. And by then, she had forgotten all about the snowman - as if she had never made him at all.