He grumbled as he walked past the bay window off the breakfast nook. The landscape was covered in a blanket of fresh snow that fell through the night, adding to the previous snow-fall from the last five days. He despised snow; every flake was an insult and a reminder of what it had taken from him eight years prior.
Vermont was not an ideal state to reside if one hates snow but he was born there and has lived there all his 78 years and is reconciled to live what remained of his life in the only state and town he has ever called home.
As a boy, he couldn't wait for the snow although in Vermont, schools seldom close because of snow. As a teenager, he earned a dime an hour shoveling snow from the neighbors' walkways. As a man, he earned a good living plowing the streets, parking lots, and major roadways for the city. Snow was so much a part of his life that people referred to him as "the snow man".
He met Emma when he was 22 years old; she worked at the grocery store owned by her family. He plowed the parking lot three times a day, but only charged Emma's father for two, hoping to catch Emma at the register or stocking shelves as he filled his thermos with hot coffee. It became a running joke with Emma's father. "I'm not paying you for three plows", Emma's father would bark and then smile and wink. "No sir; the third plow is free" he would respond and Emma fell deeper in love every single time. He proposed that summer and they were married the week following Thanksgiving. They never had children although they both longed to be parents. They were never able to conceive but were plenty happy living the next 49 years deeply and completely in love.
Eight years prior, Emma was waken at 2 am by their dog, Tiny, to go outside. She put on her bathrobe and boots and stepped out on the door step and let Tiny down to do her business. As she stepped forward, she slipped on a patch of ice, fell, and hit her head. She was unconscious in the bitter -8 degree weather for five hours. He found her and Tiny, both without life; taken by the cold and the snow.
As he passed the bay window he caught sight of John and Betty's grandchildren playing in the snow. The family was visiting from Miami, Florida, and the children had never once seen snow in person. The two year old was crying hysterically and wanted nothing to do with the cold wetness of the snow.
The five and eight year old were building lop-sided snowmen and waging a snowball war on their father.Their mother was spooning mounds of snow into a bowl; most likely to make snow cream for the children. John and Betty watched from the warmth and comfort of their living room window. It had been many years since their daughter had been home during winter months. She left Vermont right out of high school to attend college in Florida. She met and married her husband and they built their lives in Miami. John and Betty migrated with all the other snowbirds just before the first snow and didn't return until mid-April. This year, however, they didn't go South for the winter simply because they missed the snow.
He lingered in front of the bay window for a bit before moving into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee. As he reached for his mug, his sleeve caught the chipped lip of Emma's favorite cup.
He had found it at a thrift store for a quarter nearly twenty years ago. He got it for her because of the picture of the penguins sliding in the snow. She loved penguins; she would always say, "penguins are what smiles are made of". He took the cup off the shelf, gave it a good wash, and poured his coffee to the rim. He placed his lips where hers would have been and took a sip of coffee. He closed his eyes and pictured Emma sitting across from him, hair all messy from a sound nights sleep, sipping coffee and eating toast as she did every morning of their marriage. It was a sweet memory and didn't hurt him as badly today as other memories had hurt him before. As he sat quietly with his memory, he could hear the sounds of the children next door. The laughing, screaming, crying; sounds of life that he had missed so very much.
He returned to the bay window and watched the children play. It was the first time in a very long time that the ends of his mouth turned upward into a smile. His youth came flooding back like a slide show on fast-forward. The hours he played in and shoveled the snow were some of the best times of his life. The hours of building snow-forts where his team lay in waiting to ambush the other team with the 200 snowballs they had prepared for the most epic of snowball fights.
He found himself giggling just a bit and realized he was tired of being mad at life and mad at snow. Emma would be so angry at him for all the time he has lost cursing the things he could never change.
He pulled on his boots, gloves, hat, scarf, and coat and stepped out into the snow. He walked around to the side of the house where the children were playing. He walked to his shed behind the house, pulled open the doors, and drug out the two beautiful sleds he and Emma used every winter until they were too old to walk up Bakers Hill. He dusted them off and pulled them around the house. He called the two older children over and handed them the toe-ropes for the sleds. "Ask your mom to take you to Bakers Hill; she knows the best place to go".
He walked back to the shed and pulled out his snow shovel.
