Mara’s Snow Coat

The fingers of white morning light reached into the bedroom on the east side of the home. They stretched into each corner and brightened each crevice, scaring away the monsters that lurked in the shadows. The light gave the small room a blue-tinted glow, hinting that it had arrived for the first time this season.

Mara squinted her eyes open as the light caressed her face. Crawling out of bed, Mara’s feet touched the icy wooden floorboards. The room was freezing. As the nine-year-old Mara tip-toed across the wood with a blanket wrapped over her shoulders, she reached the floor-length curtains that covered the east window. Over the porcelain dolls and toy jacks left out over the floor of the bedroom that had once belonged to her mother, she walked carefully to the window.

Through the hand-sewn lace, Mara could see out the window to where the white morning light was coming from. As soon as she reached the window, her hands didn’t hesitate to grab a hold of the fabric and pull it aside.

That same bright white light flooded even the darkest places in the room now, making the pastel pink walls glow. Outside the window however, lay before Mara’s eyes a world whiter than the girl from Florida had ever known.

Mama had warned her about this. That’s why she wanted Mara to stay with her grandparents for the winter. 

The sunlight reflected off the pearly surface so brightly that Mara had to blink several times before her eyes adjusted to the light. It was snow. As her eyes continued to stare, Mara could see new flurries of white fall from the sky to the already blanketed, white world. For miles and miles, the whole forest was white without a sign of any footprints whatsoever.

To the left, Mara could see the barn at the top of the hill.  On the four mornings before now, there had been cows grazing on that hill. Real, brown, smelly cows. Not the black and white ones Mara had always seen in picture books and that encouraged you to eat chicken. But this morning, those same real cows didn’t graze about but instead stood within the warmth of the barn, sheltered from the bitter ice of the outdoors.

Stepping away from the window, Mara brushed her teeth and hair and then skipped down the creaky old steps to the kitchen. The smell of bacon hovered in the air as little Mara skipped over to her grandfather who was at the stove top.

Mara’s grandfather was bent with age and his face so covered with wrinkles that Mara couldn’t even imagine him ever looking young. However, the man had a warm smile and a twinkle in his eye that seemed to always get the two of them up in trouble.

To the sizzling and popping sound of the bacon on the pan, the old man turned around. 

“Good mornin’, girly,” he smiled, and she said good morning back. “Have ya takin’ a looksee out er window?”

Mara turned to see the white world once more and nodded. Looking back to her grandfather without another word, she watched him take the bacon off the pan and put it on three plates. He then took the pan and poured the grease into an empty tomato can.

He turned to place the plates on the table and then sit down with an “oofda” that made Mara smile.

Mara could hear her grandmother moving about upstairs as she ate her breakfast. Her grandfather seemed to know this as well for he lowered his voice and leaned in close with a breath that smelled of bacon and cigars.

“I’ve gotta surprise for ya.” The man smiled at the little girl once more and she tilted her head a little without saying a word. “And,” he looked left and right as if someone were listening and then whispered, “we can’t let your grandmother know.”

With this, Mara let out a big smile yet still didn’t say a word back. Shoveling bacon into her mouth and then placing her dishes into the sink, she followed her grandfather to the front door. The man opened the closet and searched through the coats that hung in it as quickly as he could for both Mara and Grampa could hear Grandma’s steps moving around upstairs.

Eventually, after digging about for a few moments, he pulled out a coat about Mara’s size along with snow pants and shoes, gloves, a scarf, and a hand-knitted beany. Handing them to her, he too got all bundled up and then turned to look at the little girl.

Once his eyes fell on the nine-year-old, his heart seemed to freeze. Her faded pink jacket filling his mind with memories for it had once belonged to her mother. It was the same coat Grampa had watched her mother wear all those years ago when she had lived under his roof as quiet child, much like Mara.

Pushing the thought away, the two of them headed out the door and into the white wonderland. Grampa’s boots were the first to crunch into the white powder. Mara hesitated. Her eyes squinted at the snow and then back at her grandfather who nodded assuredly, and she took a step.

The clunky boots pressed into the damp white with a crunch. Closing the door behind her, Mara took another step and then another. Her feet pressed deeply with each step. She huffed and puffed to keep up with her grandfather as he turned around the corner of the house, struggling all the time to yank the boots out of the snow with each step.

The flurries of snow that had been falling only minutes earlier had ceased now. Instead, the clouds of snow had been replaced by the golden rays of the morning sun which reflected off the snow, making the world blindingly bright.

Grampa led Mara away from the house now and to the left. They both fogged the air with their breath without a word until they were at the bottom of the cow’s hill.

“What- are we doing?” Mara finally spoke and Grampa’s eyes almost seemed surprised she had said anything at all.

“That, girly, is for me to show ya. You’ll see. C’mon,” the man smiled at her in between heavy breaths. The two of them continued pushing through heavy breaths as they began to climb the cow’s hill now all the way up to the barn. The blazing morning sun beat down on both Mara and Grampa’s cheeks while their toes froze in their socks.

Not long after, the two of them reached the top of the hill where the barn sat and looked down over the house and forest below. Mara had spent all eight winters previous to this one in the heat of southern Florida where it never even got below freezing. But here was a different story.

Now, as her eyes gazed over the white world, her thoughts seemed to pause in her awe. For as far as her stare could reach, the world was blanketed in a white that held everything in a sort of hush. Her mind no longer moped about how she didn’t want to spend her winter here. Instead, it fell silent like everything else at the blinding snow.

“Are ya comin’?” Her grandfather called from the barn door and Mara was snapped out of her trance. Nodding, she turned around and made her way in all the snow gear to inside the barn.

Inside, the cows mooed and stood about in the cold—their breathe fogging the air. Mara hadn’t been in the barn just yet, so her eyes gazed down the rows of stalls, piles of hay, and bins of seed. Grampa didn’t seem to be as occupied with the appearance of the place. Without hesitating, he went straight to the back where several wooden boxes were stacked up.

Mara walked toward him as he moved the boxes aside in search of something. With each box that was moved, a puff of dust was sent into the air. Moments later, he found what he was looking for and tugged it out from behind a box.

Bringing it into the light to show Mara, Grampa watched as her eyes looked at the ancient thing. Grampa had remembered showing this very same thing to his daughter about twenty years ago. Mara’s mom had squealed and nearly dragged her father out of the barn and to the snow.

Mara, however, had a different reaction to the sled. She tilted her head slightly to the left and squinted at it, puzzled. The sled had been built by Grampa’s father years ago. It was made of wood and metal with a leather seat.

“C’mon, girly, lemme show ya,” was all Grampa said as he gestured for the quiet girl to follow him outside the barn.

After latching the door behind him, he placed the sled in the snow. It was then, when it hit the snow, that Mara finally realized what it was. Her eyes lit up as she looked from her grandfather’s eyes to the sled and back.

“Can I-” She hesitated. “-try it…?”

A grin spread across Grampa’s face at the sound of her voice as he nodded. Helping the little girl into the sled, he gave her the string at the front, and she held it tightly in her gloved hands. He climbed in the sled behind her and whispered in her ear, “Ya ready, girly?”

Mara nodded enthusiastically. With that, Grampa took a deep breathe, and pushed off the snow. It started off slow and then grew faster. Faster and faster, it gained speed. It caught wind and soon was flying across the pearly-white snow.

The wind blew Mara’s hat off, picked her hair up in its breeze, and threw it about. The two of them were flying—flying across the cow’s hill—all the way to the bottom where the sled slid across the snow and then slowed right in front of the front farmhouse door.

Mara began laughing and leaped off the sled and jumped about. “Let’s do it again! Let’s do it again!” she chanted lauder than Grampa had heard her say anything before.

Her grandfather inhaled heavily as he stood up and laughed. Handing her the string once more he gestured for her to try it by herself this time. He watched as she dragged the sled behind her and raced back up the hill.

Turning to walk over to the porch, he shook the snow off the bench and then sat down. As he watched Mara near the top of the hill in the pink coat, someone walked up to him. Without saying a word, Grandma who was wrapped in a blanket handed Grampa a cup of steaming coffee and sat down next to him.

There was silence for a moment as the two of them watched Mara push off, fly down the hill, and then drag the sled back up one more.

“I recognize that jacket,” spoke Grandma with a smile and Grampa turned to look back at Mara. There was another pause. They both watched the sweet, innocent girl squeal. The smile on her face was immense but the memory of their own daughter those thirty years ago made the two on the bench smile with a hint sadness in their eyes. They missed her. She would never know that, but they did.

With a sigh, Grandma’s gaze drifted off into the white forest and beyond. Standing, Grampa took Grandma’s hands and the two headed away from the cold and inside without another word.