Hazle's Tale

The snow falls steadily onto the ground, the white flakes drifting down as if it has forever. With a smokey-grey fog covering the sky and a gentle winter wind whistling through the trees, Hazel sat in her maroon armchair, a soft knitted grey blanket spread across her lap. She looked out at the window, its frames cracked and broken, the paint chipped and old, and sighed in longing for everything that she had lost.

She remembered what it was like when she was just a little girl and the world had gifted her with a miraculous winter wonderland, right before her eyes. With school out of the way, her mother would bundle her up in many layers, handing her over to her father with a gentle smile, a twinkle in her striking blue eyes. 

Her father would take her small hand in his large, calloused ones, gently guiding her outside. Hazle’s footprints, which were considerably smaller than her father’s large, winter, boots, left tracks in the freshly snowed ground that was sure to disappear in a few hours. They would walk to the nearby clearing, a field of untouched snow just for her, as the sounds of their voices echoed in the quiet air. 

“Look at the snowflakes, Haz,” her father would say, smiling down at his daughter. “Each of them is different, unique, and perfect. Just like you.” 

And she would just laugh and tell her father how much she loved him, letting him play with her soft, blond, curls. Then they would play until the sun began to set, and the temperature started to drop, making her small body shiver in the cold air. 

They would walk take the path in the woods she knew by heart, the sky turning dark above them as the stars twinkled like Christmas lights in the glittering sky. When she became too tired to walk on her own, her father would hoist her up onto his hips, his strong, muscular, arms encasing her safely, as she snuggled into his warm chest.

As they stepped through the doorway of the rickety, old, cabin, the fire would be burning, and her mother would be waiting with open arms, a hot meal ready on the table. Her parents would share a quick, passionate, kiss, and she would cringe out of her father’s arms, giggling like the small girl she was. 

And only when she was tucked into bed that night with a goodnight kiss and the moon shining proudly in the sky, would she let herself dream about one day finding a man that made her as happy as her father made her mother. 

And it was safe to say, she did. 

Max had made her the happiest woman alive, with random bouquets of flowers and early morning kisses that were short and sweet. Her eyes would twinkle with happiness as she sat down with her husband at the dining room table, smiling at each other over glasses of champagne. That quick, charming, smile he would flash at her was enough to make her heart burst with joy, and those warm, brown, eyes that could always tell when she was upset, was enough to make her melt. 

But her love for him, no matter how deep it had been, had not been quite enough to keep him alive. So when the service members, dressed in their camouflage suits, had shown up at her door with the remainder of her husband’s belongings and sympathy in their eyes, she had wept and mourned the loss of her beloved that had followed the death of her parents. But this time she knew, that there was no Max to hold her while she cried into the night. 

It was months and months until Hazel could bring herself to open the short, sweet, letter he had left for her in the squiggly handwriting she had always loved to tease him about. And the tears were an endless stream, pouring down her rosy cheeks when she read the last words her love had left behind for her. 

Needless to say, after a few years, she could finally look at the photos and the love letters without feeling a sharp pain in her chest. Instead, the thoughts of her Max would fill her with a feeling of warmth, a feeling of love, as the memories flowed smoothly in her mind, no longer jagged and blurry. 

And as the years flew by, Hazel often found herself staring out this very window, having moved into the old house her parents had left behind for her in their will. The old building had been in desperate need of a remodel when she'd moved in, but she had refused to meddle with a single nail. 

Because this had been her home, where the memories were sharpest, and the sense of familiarity helped her sleep at night. She had met Max for the first time in this creaky, wooden cabin, and sometimes, when she concentrated hard enough, she thought she could still smell the scent of his cologne, lingering in the air. 

Now, sitting in her armchair, a smile played on her lips as she gently closed her eyes. Her mind was instantly filled with memories, with snapshots, of her life, each one bright and clear as day. 

She saw the day Max announced that he was going into the army and showed off his new uniform for her to see. His brown hair was tousled, his brown eyes sparkling with love as he smiled at her, arms open for a hug which she’d eagerly jumped into. 

She saw the day she’d graduated from college and her father had been so proud of her, he’d taken it upon himself to buy her a new car. He was leaning heavily against his cane, a pair of unframed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he proudly grinned at her, watching her happily wave her college diploma.

She saw the day she had come home from school in third grade, happy that she’d gotten an A on her spelling test. Her mother had that twinkle in those stunning blue eyes that mirrored her own, an easy smile gracing her features as she leaned against the countertop, a batch of freshly baked cookies in front of her. 

There were many more that followed, some just blurry glimpses of her life, and some a longer, clearer, scene. 

Hazel sighed again, but this time in content, letting the memories flow through her mind.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself by the lake that froze over during the winter, one that she’d gone ice skating on with Max as one of their dates. And to her surprise, she saw her mother, father, and Max, smiling warmly at her. 

Her father stepped forward, offering her a steady hand, those big, tough, hands familiar. Hazel gingerly stepped forward, letting her feet tentatively touch the frozen surface, just as her heartbeat slowed and her chest shuddered with one, final, breath.