The First Snowfall

The first snow of winter always seemed to catch people by surprise in this little town, but not Lily. She woke before dawn, the much-anticipated date circled brightly in red on her weathered floral calendar. In the quiet darkness, she layered on woolens and lit the old gas lantern before venturing out into the frosty morning.

She inhaled the crisp, cold air as she walked down the deserted main street. Magic seemed to hang in the air this morning, predicted only by the almanac and evident now in the hushed blue glow of new snow on the ground. Lily cut through the alley by the bakery, where the baker would already be firing up ovens. The acrid scent of smoke layered over mouthwatering notes of ginger and cinnamon wafted into the alleyway.

Her destination was the woods on the outskirts of town, the same walk she had been taking on the first snowfall morning for over six decades now. The path remained so familiar under the blanket of new snow that her feet carried her there almost without thought, having traces the steps so many hundreds of times before. Though much had changed over the years, this quiet reverie was one tradition that brought her solace in even the most difficult of times.

Lily reached the clearing just as the night sky began to fade to predawn lavender. Her breath caught as it did every year when she saw the tree--a towering pine that stood utterly still, decorated only by the new snow against branches and the occasional chickadee flitting across its boughs.

As she watched the light slowly shift, Lily felt herself getting lost in memories once again. She thought back to her childhood when she first stumbled upon this place with her brother Jacob. They had been chasing their runaway sled, giddy from the season's first big snowfall. The pine stood just as majestically back then, though perhaps a bit smaller as decades of growth had expanded its branches wider and higher toward the heavens.

Under this very tree, Jacob had shyly given Lily a wooden pendant he had carved himself just for her one Christmas morning. Through all the difficulties in life, she had kept it close, a symbol of simpler times and the bond of family. The intricacies of the carving reminded her of the goodhearted boy who had such creativity and care to shape the piece. Each year when she returned to this spot on the first winter snowfall morning, she remembered him here in this clearing.

Eventually, the distant bell of the church pulled Lily back to the present. It was time for her annual Christmas wish. Closing her eyes, she whispered into the cold, silent air her deepest hope that Jacob, whose life had taken him away across oceans and continents, was also somewhere gazing up at the unfurling light of day, perhaps even glancing up at the very same sun or moon in that instant. Though separated by many miles, she hoped he too caught the magic floating down along with this peaceful snow and felt the connection of seasons flowing round and round the globe, tying them to this time and place.

Lily said one more wish for his health and happiness as she did every year on this morning before opening her eyes once more to the milky dawn. She lingered for a few more minutes, noticing the details of cardinals poking through pine branches like ornaments and inhaling the earthy scent of winter’s beginning. With the last silvery chime of bells, she turned back toward home, warmed from within against the cold.