Little Things - 6. Evo and The Snowman

Evo was eight. He lay in bed quietly while his mom pulled up the covers and said good night. He kissed her when she presented her cheek.

“Sleep well, Evo,” she said.

After yawning, he snuggled against his pillow. “Night, Mom.”

She smiled at him and then left, closing the bedroom door behind her.

From where he lay, he could see out his window just a bit. It was at the end of his bed, on the left side. The night sky had that wintry white glow. Winter and snow meant skating and fun. But it had been a busy day at school so he let himself slip off to sleep.

It tickled his brain, it did. Like a fly wandering over your skin. Evo turned in his sleep, wanting whatever was tickling his ears and skin to just leave him be. Turned out to be very persistent whatever it was.

Evo opened his eyes. All seemed quiet in the house. He lay beneath his blue and white checked quilt his Gramma had made him. What woke me up?

Turning over, he snuggled under his warm bedding, yawned and closed his eyes.

That! His eyes flashed open. He listened … it was a whisper … whish, whish, whish … out in the snow.

Evo pushed his blankets off to one side. He got to his knees on his bed and crawled to the end. Moving the curtain slowly, he kneeled and placed his small, slim fingers on the windowsill. Slowly, he lifted himself just enough to peer out. The backyard was thick with white. The wind lifted some flakes and blew them. They rose and turned into a tiny tornado.

“That’s not the sound I heard,” he whispered in his softest whispering voice. He watched patiently, and just when that small amount of patience began to wane, it came again … whish, whish … from below. Evo looked around, slowly examining the yard.

“There!” He gazed quietly, holding his breath. In the back, where Mama grew her lilies of the valley, under the shade of the maple his father called a damn leaf machine in the fall, under there the snow was different. “What’s it doing?”

The snow piled itself into … into fingers. Only an inch or two tall, they’d raise up, but then collapse. The tiny crystal shapes did this several times before they’d topple to one side.

Evo watched, his eyes wide, so wide he felt sure his eyeballs would pop out. “If one did, I wonder if could still see from it?”

He held up an imaginary eyeball in his thumb, index and middle fingers. He giggled. Then in the same instant his two eyes, which remained in his head, peered out at the patch of snow. All seemed quiet now. The little boy crawled back to bed. He pulled the warm blankets back over himself, and before he closed his eyes, whispered, “I will look at that spot tomorrow.”

Though he’d promised to look at that spot, Evo was busy with school and life in general and he forgot until he was in bed again on Friday night.

The wind picked up, and Evo heard the snow whispering. Again, he left the warmth of his checkered quilt and peeked out the window.

This time there were two sets of fingers. Hands. There are two hands.

He watched a little longer, but once the hands disappeared again into the snow, Evo tucked himself back in bed. Tomorrow. I’ll go out into the backyard tomorrow to look.

On Saturday morning he was awake before anyone. Why do adults like to sleep in so much? You should never sleep in on a Saturday! He thought about these mysteries of life as he dressed himself and then went down to the backdoor to pull on his snow pants. Mom can’t get mad at me if I dress properly. Gramma won’t say, you’re old enough to know better than that, Evo.

So, he dutifully pulled on boots, winter coat, good mittens and finally tied a scarf around his neck. Once his hat and hood were on and pulled up, he unlocked the back door and went out.

I am Captain Scott blazing a trail. No one has walked here … only me! The little boy grinned as he trudged through the knee-deep snow. He stopped as he arrived at the spot where he’d seen the snow making fingers. He bent down and looked at it. Looks like regular snow … mostly, but, there is something different about it. This part is a little more wet and sort of blueish.

He touched the odd patch but nothing happened. His curiosity was satisfied for the moment. Hmm, well, may as well build a snow man. It’s sticky snow.

Evo left the patch and went to the middle of the yard to roll a small ball into a big one. Then he rolled a smaller ball and lifted it onto the top of the first. He added snow around the two balls like mortar between bricks. He stood back to appraise his work. “That looks good. I’ll roll his head now.”

The back yard wasn’t big and he’d used up most of the snow for the bottom and middle of his creation. To make the head he moved into the back section of the garden. While rolling the ball around he rolled it through the wet, blue patch … just a little. This is the right size. Now to get it on top.

He pushed the head onto the body, and his snowman was nearly finished. He patted extra snow on to keep the head from rolling off. I’ll look in the back ‘cause Mommy has some rocks there. He needs eyes and a mouth and stuff.

“These are good eye rocks, this one for the nose and these tiny ones to make a mouth.” Holding the pile of selected stones against his coat he carried them to the snowman. He placed each one on with great care. Finished, he stepped back to admire his frozen man.

“You should have a scarf, but I need to ask Mommy first. Cuz that is what responsible people do, Evo!” He grinned at his mimicry.

The little boy went inside and returned a few minutes later having scored an old scarf of light and dark blue checks.

“Here you are,”—Evo wrapped the scarf around the snowman’s neck.—“This will keep you nice and warm.” The eight-year-old giggled. “You better not get too warm.”

The back door opened, and Evo’s father called for his son. “Get in here and clean up this mess. What is the matter with you? You think your mother and gran should be cleaning it up?”

Evo glanced at his snowman. His heart pounded in his chest. “I’ve made Daddy mad. I’m in for it now. Goodbye, Snowman.” The little boy turned to walk into the house.

“I love you, Evo.” The voice was soft as fresh snow, but the wind stole the gentle words.

Twenty years later…

“I’m so glad you agreed to come out with me.”

Evo stared at the beautiful man across from him. “Me too. I was so surprised when you asked me, Sven.”

Sven smiled. “You shouldn’t be. You’d a good and interesting person. Too hard on yourself and too quiet. But I’ve always been attracted to that type … to you.”

“Well, thanks.” Evo picked up his coffee and sipped. “I feel like we’ve met. That’s crazy though, right?” He turned to the café window and watched the first snow start to fall. “I’ve always liked the snow.”

As he admired the snow, Sven’s hand slid across the table to take Evo’s. “I know.”

“Do you? Maybe there will be enough to make a snowman.”

“Maybe there will be.” Sven chuckled. “Let’s walk. I love first snowfalls too.”

“Okay.” Evo stood and put on his scarf, hat and coat. “The first snow is a miracle. It’s so pure and perfect.”

Sven got to his feet and pulled on his black wool coat and a blue checked scarf. “There are many miracles in the world, Evo.”

Evo’s eyes widened. “I … I had a scarf just like that as a boy.”

Grinning, Sven dropped a ten-dollar bill onto the table. “I know.”

<>The End<>