Microcosms

Staring off into unequivocal space, there is a certain silence that gleams within the heart of something. Not just ordinary something, but a neighboring existence full of wonder.

Mom scolds the kids for tracking in slush clinging to the boots they wore during the epic snowball battle. Ever forgetful, she smiles at their innocence; being secretly overjoyed to clean up after them.

Dad retrieves the wooden sled off the porch and returns it to its spot hanging next to the garden tools. He won’t be using those for some time now.

Before going inside, he pauses to look at the aftermath of playful mayhem; a satisfying moment to savor as the snow will soon melt in the coming weeks.

He approaches something blue, partially covered in the white stuff. It’s Sophie’s scarf. As he grabs it, he notices two small figures below him, each about a foot high. It's a snowman and a snowwoman standing side by side, arms fused together as if they’re holding hands. Written in the snow in front of them are the words Mom and Dad. A heartfelt smile articulates.

Travis is our favorite. He frequently picks us up and shakes us wildly to watch the flurries continuously swirl until gravity regains its grip, returning the white specks to the bottom. We love Travis.

We will watch these kids grow and the parents retire. They've kept us on this windowsill for as long as we can remember. Wintertime in our small, enclosed world lives on forever.