Messages In the Snow J. M. Strother Dreaming of a white Christmas is not exactly a pipe dream when you live this far north, that being Keokuk, Iowa. The chances are better than even that we'll have something white, or at least off-white, on the ground come December 25th. Still, my wife hailed from St. Cloud, Minnesota, so as far as she was concerned our white Christmases were darned undependable. She always loved a fresh, unblemished blanket of new fallen snow, particularly if it came about on Christmas morn. I suppose it was her love for new fallen snow, and the sentimental mood it always put her in, that started my silly tradition of writing Maryanne little love messages back in our courting days. It started out simply enough. One day we made snow angles together on the hill outside Curtis Hall, when we were both in college. Then I reached out and scribbled, “True Love,†between them with my gloved hand. She reacted by melting into my arms. Heck, I know a good thing when I see it. Over time, my antics evolved into more elaborate affairs. I'd go to great lengths to scratch something like, “Jack loves Maryanne,†or “Love you, 4-ever,†without leaving a trace of footprints within three feet of the message. Sometimes this meant frog hopping on the patio furniture, or worse, hanging out the dining room window while she was still asleep. Of course this would drive the inside house temperatures down into the low 40s, while I scrawled some goofy little love message with a broom handle into the new fallen snow. She never let me forget the time I overbalanced and ended up face first out on the lawn. The neighbors had to think I was crazy. I guess I was. Crazy for Maryanne. It was good for the kids to come home this past Christmas, Maryanne's last. Of course the cancer sucked most of the joy right out of the season. Still, it was good to see Robert, Jenny, and their broods all under one roof again. It gave Maryanne some final joy. It snowed on Christmas Eve, six fresh inches to add to the four already on the ground. And though I had not done it for the past several years, I revived my old tradition. When Maryanne woke to the sight of the new fallen snow plastered against the bark of the oak outside her window on Christmas morning she smiled. I wrapped her snuggly in her blanket and gently carried her out onto the back porch. There, scrawled in the snow, read my heartfelt message: I love you Now and Forever She gave me a brave smile. I cradled my small little wisp of a wife in my arms as we both gazed at the words through teary eyes. After a minute or so I took her back inside. She died three days later. I still write her messages in the snow. --- 496 words. I actually do write my wife, Cyndi, messages in the snow. This little fiction was inspired as I was shoveling the snow near where I had written my latest message. I immediately went inside and told Cyndi I was going to kill off the wife for Christmas. She wasn’t exactly thrilled. ~jon