Snow for Pigeon

This morning, just after Pigeon drank his milk and just before he went to sleep, his mother turned the blinds to let in the light, and let out a little gasp. There beyond the window pane was a gentle morning snow. This was one of his mother's favorite things. Pigeon watched with wide, blue eyes as the world was frosted white. It was not a bad way to start the day, with warm milk, a soft lap, and fresh falling snow before a nice, long nap.

Later when Pigeon awoke, Mother was getting ready for Christmas. Pigeon looked around the room with her for signs of the special day to come. There were heavy hooks with shiny shapes on top sitting on the mantle: a star for Father, a tree for Mother, and a little round man with a long pointy nose for Pigeon.

These are for stockings, Mother said. One for me, one for Daddy, and one just for you! The little round man could be made much bigger out of real snow, with a carrot nose and branches for arms. Someday, Mother said, you will make a snowman of your own.

She lifted Pigeon to the tall, green Christmas tree to smell the sharp scent of the forest and feel the prickle of pine needles against his palm. They found hand-carved wooden ornaments in all sorts of shapes and sizes: slim, regal reindeer with tufted, red noses; hollowed-out shapes cut from a wood called Purple Heart; snowmen and candles and trains that glittered; and paper-thin snowflakes, airy as lace. Your Paw-Paw made these for us, Mother explained, making a snowflake dance in Pigeon's face.

It wasn't long before it was time for Pigeon to rest. The snow had stopped falling, but the ground was still white. Pigeon fell to dreaming and wondered that there could be such cold snow without, and such warm snow within.