Snowy Wonderland

Marigold.

Snow flurries paint the forest with a blanket of white. If Bob Ross were to have painted a snowy landscape, this would have been the result. Breathtaking views of the mountains in the background with a speckling of trees in the foreground, all covered in a blanket of perfect, untouched snow. It is absolutely spectacular.

Our breaths are clouded like thick smoke billowing from a chimney. I hold my sister close, rubbing her arms quickly to warm her. I feel a sharp breeze nip at the back of my neck, and the hairs raise on my arms. I pull Hannah closer to me as another strong wind pushes us against a big evergreen. It’s hard to push back, so I shield Hannah from the wind between the tree and I.

Marigold.

“This snowstorm isn’t letting up,” I say into her chilled hair. Frost has clumped itself to each lock of her long, golden hair, and I try to melt one with my breath to no avail. She shakes in my hands, and I squeeze her closer to me. I consider giving her my jacket as an additional layer on top of her children’s one. If I were to die in this snowstorm without the jacket, there would be no chance of her survival. I need to stay alive for both of us. “I’m going to save us, Hannah,” I whisper into her now brittle hair.

After the wind lets up, I push off the tree with my foot as I hold Hannah tightly in my arms. We have to move forward, otherwise we may never move again. Maybe we can find some cabin in the woods for shelter or a road to follow back to the car. Regardless, we can’t just stay in one place in the snow.

Why did we go on a hike today, of all the days we could have? Seattle weather is typically mild. At most Seattle is a bit rainy, but never as bad or as cold as the East Coast. At the very least, it has never been this cold or blustery while I've lived here.

Marigold.

“Hannah,” I breathe sharply, “I’m going to tell you a story to get us through this.”

Marigold.

I heave one foot over a log in my way and catch my breath before working the other leg across as well. When I gather my footing, I look up at the sky. A salt and pepper sky. The white clouds sprinkle grayish white flakes in all directions. It is an endless mirage above us.

Marigold.

“My story, Hannah, is going to be about the time mom took us to a field of flowers. You must’ve been only a year old when we went, so I don’t think you’d remember it, but it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. I remember her telling us about her favorite place in the entire world and how she wanted to share it with us someday. She told us she would take us there when we were older, so we could show our children and pass it on. But when dad died, mom didn’t want to wait to show us anymore. Life was too short to not pass it on to her children.”

Marigold.

“Mom took us on a long hike - longer than this one even. She carried you the entire way. I remember how tired she was because you were getting heavier, and it was just mom carrying you. Not a lot has changed except now you’re a little heavier than even then,” I laughed. Thinking about carrying her down this mountain in a blizzard was a pipe dream. Her nine-year-old body is heavier than my backpacking pack, and I’m holding her in my arms on my front. I ponder whether to have her climb on my back and piggyback her down the mountain, but I don’t think her little hands would be able to cling on for that long in this cold. I readjust Hannah in my arms to relieve my right arm and keep moving.

Marigold.

“Right, right. So we - well, I guess I was walking with mom to her favorite place in the world. It was the first time I had seen her smile since dad died... As soon as she had gotten the call on the phone from Auntie Susan, she was devastated. I remember seeing her face so clearly turn from one of pure joy to absolute shock and misery. Her best friend had been shot. He had been shot for no reason except that he was in the ‘wrong place at the wrong time’. He was on his way back from work and poof, he was gone.” I feel my words become heavy as I speak. An ache in the back of my throat forces me to close my eyes for just a moment. I stop before taking a breath and moving forward.

Marigold.

“It’s been a while since I’ve thought of dad,” I pause again as a tear escapes my eye and freezes on my cheek.

Marigold.

“You don’t remember this, but when dad was still alive, he used to play music for mom and me,” I kneel under a fallen tree, gripping Hannah tightly in my arms. Her hair just barely touches the ground as we move through and make it to the other side. “Dad was a professor of music at NYU. He would play the saxophone, the piano, and even the trumpet. Listening to him play was like these mountains. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever experienced.”

Marigold.

“As we were walking on this trail to mom’s favorite place, I remember seeing her eyes brighten like they did when dad would play us music. It was that same serene feeling. I felt it too just by seeing her smile and get so excited about it.” As we make our way down a ravine, I feel myself begin to sweat under my jacket. I am burning up. Hannah can take my jacket while I walk. The heat from my activity will keep me warm enough. I sit Hannah on a log beside me and wrap my jacket around her. I tie the sleeves to make sure she doesn’t slip out and hoist back into my arms before continuing down the rest of the ravine.

Marigold.

“On our walk with mom, I remember smelling the flowers as we drew closer to the fields. The trees were in the way, so we couldn’t see them yet, but you could smell them so well. They had a sweet, almost citrusy smell that would make anyone swoon. Mom said the smell was her favorite part because it meant we were almost there.” As I begin my accent out of the ravine with Hannah tightly bound in my hands, I smell something. It isn’t trees or dirt like I’d been used to, but something closer to home. Smoke. We’re close to shelter. We’re close to people.

I feel my heartbeat accelerate as I pull us up and out of the ravine. My pace quickens, and I break out into a run. I don’t know where we’re headed, but anywhere with smoke is better than out here in the cold.

As I sprint through the woods, I see a small window in a wood cabin. No - not a cabin, it’s a house. I run closer to it and see smoke billowing from the chimney. There it is. I run quickly around to a front door and bang on it. I hadn’t even looked at my fingers until I knocked, but they are blue - very blue. I had lost all feeling in them and hadn’t even noticed. I look at them in shock before slapping the door one more time.

“H-hello?” I shout.

The door opens slowly and an old woman pokes her head out from behind the door.

“Hi, p-p-please. My s-sister and I have been-been out in the snow for hou-hours.”

The old woman opens the door and guides us inside.

“You look awful, dear,” she says as I rush to a couch across from the hearth of a fireplace. “How long were you out in that snow?”

I shake violently as I lay Hannah down on the couch. It isn’t until now I notice her face is blue like my hands. “Hannah,” I shake her to see if she’ll open her eyes, but she remains frigid.

“I’ll run and get some blankets.” The old woman rushes out of the room and brings soft blankets designed as if she had made them herself. She wraps two around me and a few over Hannah. She checks Hannah’s neck for a pulse. “She’s as cold as ice. I’ll call the ambulance.” She hurries back down the hall.

My hands are numb as I try to move them to feel Hannah’s pulse myself. I wouldn’t be able to feel anything even if she still had a heartbeat. She has to have a heartbeat.

In the distance, the old woman’s voice tells the dispatcher her address and that we need help immediately. That two girls had shown up to her doorstep and one didn't have a pulse. Hannah. She hangs up the phone and returns to us.

“I’ve called. They’ll be here in ten minutes.” She rubs Hannah’s arms as I had on the mountain. “What’s your name, dear?” She looks up at me.

“M-m-my name is M-Mary,” I shake violently, and she grabs a hold of one of my frozen hands. She breathes on them as I had for Hannah.

“Well Mary, my name is Polly. We’re gonna get you and your friend home safe, okay?”

“She’s m-my s-sister,” I can barely speak. Tears fill my eyes. “I was t-t-telling her about the m-marigold f-f-fields.”

“Marigold fields? Well, that sounds lovely.”

“I n-need to t-t-tell her about the m-marigolds so she’ll r-r-remem-member.”

The old woman looks at me with a pained, but curious gaze. “What do you need to tell her about the marigolds, Mary?”

I see Hannah’s face unmoving, blue and pale. I know she’s gone. She had been trying to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen.

“Mary?”

“W-we went to m-m-marigold fields with our m-mom about nine y-years ago. T-they were the m-most beautiful thing I-I’ve ever s-s-seen in my entire life. T-they were bright and y-y-yellow. I-I-I will never seen anything with m-much vibrance again.”

“That sounds beautiful. I’m sure your sister really appreciated you telling her that story,” she smiled and sat across from us on the hearth. “Do you mind if I ask why in God’s name were you two out there today? It’s the biggest blizzard in Washington history.”

“I wanted to s-s-show my sister my second f-favorite place.” Tears stream down my cheeks as I hold Hannah’s hands as best I can in mine. I lean on her and sob into her chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you told me you were cold, Hannah,” I shake.

“She told you what?”

My tears don’t seem to end as I raise my head and look at her blue porcelain face. It’s perfect, and now she’s gone.

“She t-told me she was cold. That’s what r-r-reminded me of the m-marigold story.”

“I beg your pardon?”

I wipe my tears with my shirt that still clings to my chest, but more run down my cheeks. “S-s-she kept telling me, ‘M-mary, I’m cold’. I just thought I’d block her out because s-she's so young, but then the snow s-s-started really coming, and i-i-it was too late.”

The old woman stares at me in dismay, then just as it clicks with her, there are the flashing of lights outside the window that fill the room with a red light.