Whispers of Snow

Snow fell light from the gray skies above, landing with soft whispers on the roof. An old woman sat on the porch below, slowly rocking her chair in time with the soft rhythm above. Her hair was long and white, her skin wrinkled and pale. Her thin frame was wrapped in a thick shawl that hung nearly to her slippered feet, while beneath its folds, she clasped a warm mug between her frail hands.

The woman’s eyes were hardly touched by age. They were startling blue, and shone with thought even in the silence of the morning air. She gazed past her porch into the frosted forest beyond. Thick tufts of snow hung from the spruces, while the high oaks and maples shone with ice. Snow fell between the trees without hardly a breeze.

A crunch of snow came from down the path. She turned to the sound to find a dark figure marching slowly through the snow, leaving deep footprints in its path. It was a man, bound in a gentleman’s winter coat, with a hat pulled down low over his face.

The old woman smiled warmly. “My, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

The man, drawing near to the porch, lifted his head. His own face was ancient, the skin lined and faded. A light gray beard clung to his chin, and his mustache twitched upward with the smile upon his face.

“Mabel,” he breathed, stopping before the porch steps. “It has been far too long.”

“Far too long, but I remember every moment like it was yesterday. Don’t be shy—come on up. Knock the snow off your boots. I had a feeling I would have company this morning.”

The old man paced up the short steps and kicked his boots lightly against the wood. Mabel reached down to her side and lifted a lidded clay pitcher, along with a second mug. She poured the steaming contents into the cup, then passed it to the man as he finally stepped up next to her. 

He drew in a deep breath through his crooked nose. “Chocolate?”

“Your favorite, if I remember,” she said with a sly smile.

He took a deep sip, and sighed happily. “When was the last time I saw you? Ten years now? It can’t have been longer.”

“Seventeen years, dear. Switzerland. In that small town in the mountains?”

“How could I forget? You were gorgeous in that red coat.”

Mabel chuckled with delight. “Is that before or after the snowstorm?”

“Before. During. Every moment after.”

“You old flirt. I was sixty-four—I can’t have been gorgeous.”

“Just as gorgeous as the day I met you, on that beach so long ago.”

She shook her head, but smiled broadly. “My. I still remember how cold the water was, how the tide felt pulling against us. A lifetime past, and I still remember the movement of the waves.”

The man cast his eyes out across the forest, taking in the sights of her home. “You don’t travel like you used to. I haven’t seen nor heard of you in a very long time.”

“Oh, don’t think I’ve avoided you, not for a second. But I’m old, dear. I can’t move like I used to, and quite frankly, I’m happy not to have the need.”

“What do you do out here, then? Where is your family? Where are your friends?”

“My family left a long time ago. The children are off living their own lives, facing the world as I did many years ago. And Harvey…well, you know what happened to Harvey.”

The man nodded, regarding her with sad eyes. “Are you not…lonely out here? All by yourself? It hardly seems right for a…for such an esteemed…for you.”

“I’m hardly alone. I find my way into town every few days. A few of the ladies come out on Sundays for tea. And of course, I have my books, and I have all the presence of the forest surrounding me, always. I am never alone, but always content.”

The man stood silent for a long moment, watching the snow drifting through the trees. Their breaths came in puffs of steam, drifting toward one another, mingling in the cold air. Mabel’s hand twitched against the warmth of her mug—the man spied the movement, his own finger twitching as he stared longingly at her hand.

His feet shifted uncomfortably, and his gaze fell to the floorboards beneath him.

“Is it enough for you, Mabel?”

She, too, was silent for a long moment. “Yes, it is plenty.”

“Plenty? Is it truly plenty compared to…compared to the life we once had?”

Mabel sighed, and for a moment, her eyes stared far beyond the snowy forest. “That life was wonderful, but it was long ago.”

“But do you not remember that life? What of our travels across the land? What of the high peaks of the Alps, and the frigid winds that blew? What of the deserts out west, and those long summers we spent upon the trail?”

A light chuckle bubbled from her throat. “I remember that flood that nearly washed away our horses. Poor things were scared witless.”

“See? You remember. What of those months in France? At the Cabaret? Those long nights we could barely recount?”

“Oh my, that’s far too inappropriate to recall,” she laughed with cheeks growing red.

“But I will never forget,” the man said. He gently lowered to one knee at her side. “I always hoped I would find you again. I always hoped that I would find you on the road, or high on the peaks, or out on the ocean waves as I saw you so many times before. To find you like this…I can only wonder, and pray that you are happy.”

The lady’s eyes glistened in the snowy light. A wide smile stretched across her aged face. She reached out and took the man’s hand, lightly clasping his rough fingers. They were frigid in the winter air, like the icicles dangling from the trees, yet their touch sent a shiver of long forgotten pleasure down her spine.

“I am happy, dearest. I truly am,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. “There was a time for us, long ago, when I danced across the land like the wind itself. But…it was long ago. I’m tired, my dear. I can’t bring myself to climb the hills like I once did. I can’t chase adventure, nor fortune, nor a dashing fellow like yourself. I can’t chase the burning passion, even if it still smolders in my heart.

“But that’s okay,” she sniffed, blinking back tears. “I’ve found there’s more to life than freezing on a mountaintop, or going hungry on the road. A visit a week, good food and warm drinks, and a few decent books can bring as much joy as crossing the mountains over. The jungles of the equator are lush and beautiful, but so are the snow-strewn forests of my home. The dance of sunset on a still ocean is just as pretty as the sunrise through the trees. For all these things, for all the small beauties of my life, I am happy. For simply being alive with things to love, I am happy, and I could hardly ask to whirl away from it all again.”

The old man’s dark eyes glistened. His lips tightened, but he clasped her hand tightly, then let it go. “Very well,” he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Very well, I can see you are happy with this small patch of heaven.”

He fixed her with a smile once again. “Before I go, can I at least trouble you for a dance?”

“Oh dear, I have not danced in an age. I fear I might fall.”

“Just one dance—for old times’ sake. I’ll lead you.”

She shot him a chastising look,  then rolled her eyes. “Making an old lady dance. Shame on you.”

“Come,” he said softly, lifting her gently to her feet, then leading her across the porch. “This way.”

“Into the snow?!” she giggled. “You must be mad!”

The old man helped her one step at a time. She flicked off her slippers at the last, before stepping barefoot into the cold morning snow.

A shiver ran up her spine from tail to skull, but she smiled at the freshness of the feeling. The man led her, one crunching step at a time into the open, then placed his hand on her hip, and lifted her hand into the air.

Then they danced, swaying in slow circles back and forth as fluffy flakes fell into their hair. The whispers of falling snow played out like the soft chorus of a band, and to the rhythm of nature’s music they moved in time. Mabel looked up with a brilliant smile, her eyes lit as though she were sixteen once again. The man stared back, his dark gaze fathomless, but his smile broad and toothy in delight. Slowly, her eyes drooped closed as she rocked, feeling the cold seep into her skin, and the rhythm carrying her softly. Her head lowered against the man’s broad chest, and she breathed in deeply.

His arms wrapped around her and hugged her close, careful not to hurt her frail form.

“Come away with me,” he whispered. “Come away with me. We need not part ever again. You can leave it all behind. You can fly away again, to the edges of the world.”

She heaved a heavy sigh into his coat, then lifted her gaze to meet his again. “I will. I will come away with you…but not yet. It won’t be much longer. I can feel it, but for all the life I’ve lived, I still have a little left to enjoy. Peacefully.”

Mabel broke away from him, dropping his hand softly. Her pace was slow, but she carefully stepped through the snow, then back onto the porch one step at a time. By the doorframe, she leaned against the wall, and regarded the man warmly.

The old man was a dark figure against the snow behind him. His deep eyes regarded her with an immense sadness, but he simply tipped his hat, then turned back to the path from whence he came.

His form shifted. His coat unfurled. The black cloth of his gentlemanly attire became the dark feathers of magnificent wings. With a whirl of snow, the old man’s four wings stretched out wide, and beat once at the air.

The figure stilled, then turned to gaze at Mabel a final time. The face was no longer human, no longer physical. An immense darkness hung in silhouette against the white backdrop, like a black tear across the snowy world. Within it was only the impression of countless eyes gazing back at her.

“We will meet again, my love,” it said in a thousand voices. “That much is as sure as the peaks, the deserts, and the wide open seas. As sure as the snow upon the forest.”

Mabel wiped a tear from her face, but smiled brighter than ever. “I know. It will be the greatest adventure of all.”

“For you, I will only come when you ask. When you are ready.”

“I will be ready. Sure as the peaks, the deserts, and the wide open seas. As sure as the snow upon the forest, and the love in my heart.”

The eyes stared after her for a long moment, then the figure turned, and with a great flap of its wings, it vanished into the falling snow.

Mabel stared after it for a long moment as whirls of snow twisted overhead. As the air stilled, and the snowfall grew steady once more, she turned to her door, and passed into the warmth of her home.