Letters in the Snow

I walk slowly and methodically across the clearing. Placing heel to toe, trying not to leave any snow unbroken.

I can’t stop thinking about her.

Her eyes are like a deer’s, so wet that they always seem on the verge of tears. I have no idea why she makes my stomach flutter the way it does, I just know that I can’t deny it any longer.

The snow cracks as I break the icy rime on its surface. I place my boots at 90 degree angles, and turn a corner.

She sits so quietly at the front of Mrs. Maier’s 5th Grade classroom, that I have trouble remembering her voice. Day after day amongst the pencil shavings and chalk dust, I search for the courage to speak to her, but spoken words aren’t needed to write this message.

The black skeletons of the trees circle the blank white page of this clearing. This hilltop is the place I have chosen to make my proclamation.

I look out and down upon the rooftops of the city, the December sun sleeps far above the woolen permaclouds. My message is almost complete.

I leap across from one word to another, landing on one foot. The buckles of my boots jingle like the harness of a reindeer.

To the gods above, and the crows that sit like sentinels in the tree tops, this message must be clear;

Tom + Holly


16 thoughts on “Letters in the Snow

  1. God, I feel so inadequate every time I read one of these romantic tales.
    In 5th grade I was spending my time meeting boys I didn’t like in the parking lot and dispensing with them Muhammad Ali style.
    I had some legendary fists.
    Anyway perhaps if I had known a nice boy like you I could have softened my image and gotten some dude to hold my hand without him having to fear all that rough stuff.
    Although, I’m told that it adds to my appeal now.

    • Heck, in fifth grade a punch in the face is the equivalent of giving a girl your class ring. He probably thought you were going steady.

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