The snow had started falling early that morning, just like it always did in the middle of December. I love the first snow. It makes everything look so clean, like the world forgot all the bad things that have happened this year. I press my face to the window, my breath fogging up the glass and I start smiling. Maybe today would be different, maybe the snow would make things better.

“Michael,” I yell, grabbing my blue boots and jacket.

My older brother doesn’t respond right away as he grabs his black boots and jacket. I hope today can bring some happiness into our lives since winter is our favorite season.

As soon as I walk outside, the snow is up to my ankles. It was soft, perfect for building a snowman. I turn around and see Michael walking out slowly, like he wasn’t in a hurry. He is taller than me by only two inches and he never lets me forget it, his face always so serious, like he’s older than eleven. I am two years younger and all I want to do is play.

“Let’s build a snowman,” I yell running over to him.

Michael nods. We would build the biggest snowman ever and he’d smile again. Every year on Christmas Eve after having French Toast with eggs, we would go outside and build a big snowman with our mom, it became a family tradition. Every year she would help us make it perfect and once we finished, we would laugh and take a bunch of pictures.

The memory hits me like a wave, a couple years ago after building our family snowman, Michael and I decided to throw snow at our mom which launched an all out snowball tossing war in our front yard.

We start rolling snow into big balls, stacking them the way we always did. It feels weird doing this without mom this year. I hope that by making this snowman the best ever, it would feel like she was right here making it with us.

“Do you think mom is watching?” I ask suddenly

Michael doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps packing the snow onto the snowman’s body, his hands moving slower than before. “I hope so,” he whispers back, but I don’t think he really believes what he’s saying.

I want to believe it, it’s all I have left. I want to believe that mom could see us from wherever she is. Maybe she was even smiling down at us, laughing when I put the black pebbles on for eyes, the small carrot for the nose and how one stick is thicker than the other for arms. It’s not perfect, but ours.

I take a step back and look at our finished snowman. It’s not as good as the ones we made before, but it was something we did together. “He’s perfect,” I cry as tears fall down my face.

The snow is falling harder now, the sky getting darker. It felt cold in a different way, not just on my skin, but deep inside, like something heavy and hollow was growing in my chest. I glanced at Michael, wondering if he felt the same. He was staring at the snowman, but his eyes looked far away, like he was seeing something else. Or someone else

“I miss her so much,” I whisper.

Michael nods. “I miss her too.”

The wind picks up and I shiver. Michael wraps an arm around me and I lean into him. The snow was falling so thick now that the world felt small, like it was just the two of us in the middle of nowhere.

“Please, I don’t want to go inside yet,” I beg as my voice shakes with the cold.

Michael doesn’t answer. We just stand there, staring at the snowman waiting for something. Waiting for our mom to show up, like she could just step out into the snow, laughing and wrapping her hand knit scarf from grandma around their snowman.

But nothing happened. Just the wind, the snow, and the silence.

“Come on,” Michael finally says. “Let’s go inside, I can hear nana. She said she has made hot chocolate for us.”

It feels wrong to leave the snowman out here all alone, but I know Michael is right. As we head towards the house, I hear a soft crack and a loud thud. I turn around just in time to see the snowman collapse.

“Nooooo,” I shout, running back to the snowman. I fall to my knees grabbing at the snow trying to put it back together. It was no use, the snow was too soft, too broken. No matter how hard I tried, there was nothing I could do to make it stay.

Tears flow freely as I look at the mess in front of me. The pebbles were on the ground, the carrot nose was half buried in the snow and the sticks for arms were cracked. The snowman was gone.

“It’s ok, Kellie,” Michael whispers. He sits down in the snow next to me and wraps his arms around me.

I lean into his chest, my tears falling hot against my cold cheeks. “No it isn’t, mom isn’t here anymore. I miss her and wish she was here with us. Why did she have to get sick and leave us!?”

Michael just holds me tighter not answering me probably because he doesn’t have an answer either. Even though the snow would melt and the world would change, my brother was still right here with me. But it didn’t stop the sadness. It didn’t stop the feeling that everything was slipping away, one snowflake at a time.

(Author note: I think this could’ve been way better)