Winter Memoir by Jackson Killman

photo by Karin Daum Smith

I was looking out of the window, watching the first snow… the ice crystals forming on the window. I gently touched my finger on the glass.

We are in South Carolina, here, we rarely receive the gift of snow. I stepped out of the door and instantly, showers of white sparks covered my hair. I took one quick glance then went in my room and sank into my pillow and sheets. For about one hour, I rested. I awoke and almost instinctively pulled my curtains away from the window. A sheet of white rested in front of my eyes… a miraculous sight.

I gasped, and then I put on shirts, sweat pants, my jacket and a green knit hat. Outside, when my eyes met the frosted trees, a beautiful flash of red hit my eyes… a red cardinal. It brought back memories of my Nana… her favorite bird. Mama taught us to blow it a kiss, and I blew, and kissed Nana’s sweet face.

Down the driveway I raced. In a separate blanket of snow from my sister’s, I make my own little snowman and slipped off my beanie cap. It was the perfect size for him. I called him Kenny. I placed marbles for his eyes and nose and thought he would look better without a mouth.

My sister and I had a huge snowball fight. She gave up when one hit her in the neck. My Mama and Daddy were taking photos all day long. The cold winter winds finally caught up with me. I went toward the door and stopped. Looking back I saw, for the last time, snow everywhere and the frozen trees. I waved goodbye to Kenny, for I knew he would soon be gone. I was going to miss this.

                                                                    Jackson Killman