Snow For Christmas

"Ok, that's it for today. Remember guys..."

"We know Mrs. G! You've told us a hundred thousand times" called one of the exasperated students. "More like a million" murmured another under his breath.

"Have fun! Be safe! And take care of your library books!" chorused the class in a loud, sing-song voice.

"All right you wise guys, I get it. But I don't want to see any books with candy canes stuck to them when you come back," she chuckled. "Now get lost. Shoo. Back to class with you. Have a Happy Christmas!" A flurry of shouted goodbyes trailed after them.

She smiled as she watched them go, her last class of the day. Picking up stray library books and pushing in the chairs, she made her way back to her office. She sighed heavily. School was out for the holiday at last. Now she could finally concentrate on Christmas.

It wouldn't be the same this year though, she reflected. This year they couldn't go home for Christmas. The first year she'd ever not been home for Christmas. The first time in thirty years she'd not be there Christmas Eve to hear "The Night Before Christmas" read by her papa. The first time she wouldn't race downstairs on Christmas morning to see her family, all already gathered around the tree. The first time she wouldn't have snow at Christmas. Even if the weather didn't comply, they always had snow- mom made sure of that. It might have been icing on gingerbread houses or icy flakes on the tree, but she always made it snow.

She wasn't being fair, she reflected. She had her husband, and they had their tree and their own Christmas to share. Maybe they could start their own traditions. She perked up a bit at that idea. As she locked up the library, her mind was already spinning, planning for the holiday.

* * *

Christmas was only one day away. The house was decked out in holly and lights, the tree covered in handmade ornaments they'd made together. The cookies were all baked, candies all packaged and ready to give. The presents all sat under the tree, wrapped in bright paper and ribbons.

She and her husband snuggled by the fire that afternoon. "I love being here like this," rumbled her husband. "Just you and me, the fire and the tree. Watching the lights dance over your beautiful skin."

"Me too," she sighed wistfully.

"I'm sorry we couldn't go home this year, sweetie. I know you miss your folks."

"I do, but this is nice too! It really is- it's just..."

"I know." he said softly, kissing her nose. Suddenly he leaned forward and began to rummage around under the couch. "Ah ha! Here," he said, thrusting a large, flat package into her hand. "Open it!"

As she tore the paper from the package and she saw what was inside, her eyes shone with tears. "The Night Before Christmas" she whispered tremulously.

"I thought maybe we could read it together. I could fake a southern accent, try and sound more like your dad..."

"No, you'll be wonderful," she stretched up for a kiss. "It'll be perfect, thank you!" As he began to read, thankfully abandoning his fake southern accent, which was really quite dreadful, after only two pages, she closed her eyes to listen. The flickering firelight, her husband's low voice, and the story contented her as nothing else she'd tried had done. Lulled by the story and her husband's sweet gesture, she found herself truly happy for the first time since finding out that they wouldn't be able to go home for Christmas- found herself thinking that maybe she was home after all.

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night," he ended, as he closed the book. "A pretty good story," he remarked. "Nice holiday entertainment. But it could have used more sex." She burst out laughing.

Glancing at the clock and setting the book aside, he stood up and held out his hand. "Come on," he tugged at her, "let's go for a walk."

"Really? There's no snow. It's just cold out there" she teased. "Cold days are a waste without snow." She considered for a moment. "Well, they're good for snuggling too," she added with a small laugh.

"Yes, really. Just for a little while. C'mon. It smells like wood smoke and frost out there- smells like Christmas," he persuaded. "You know you love the scent of wood smoke!"

Bundled up against the cold, they ventured out into the fresh air. They walked along a path near the river, where they often walked during warmer weather. Arm in arm, they strolled along, talking about past Christmases and singing carols- him slightly out of tune. It was a beautiful afternoon, clear skies dotted with puffy white clouds, the air crisp and cold. Their path took them near an old stone bridge, but the river was barely a trickle in the winter. He tugged her along to poke around in the rocks at the riverbed. Geologists, she thought with a smile.

As they walked under the bridge, picking up pretty rocks and flipping over stones, something small and white fluttered down to land on her shoulder. She lifted a hand to brush off the stray leaf, only to find that it wasn't a leaf at all.

Looking at it she could see that the white object was a snowflake, made out of white construction paper. Right in the middle, written in lopsided blue crayon letters were the words 'Kiss him lots. Guys like that.' She looked up to the bridge, but saw nothing but dead leaves and stones. She looked suspiciously at her husband for a moment. Shrugging her shoulders, but always willing to follow good advice, no matter where it came from, she leaned in to kiss him gently. "I adore you." she said softly, pressing a kiss to his nose. Her lips moved on to his cheek. "I'm crazy about you." she added with a smile. "And I love you," she whispered at his ear, "with all my heart. Thanks for making this Christmas special." He turned his head and captured her lips with his, brushing his lips gently, teasingly over hers. She shivered as he nipped at her lips, licking at them until they parted so he could ease his tongue inside. He deepened the kiss until she was drowning in sensation, overwhelmed by pure feeling. Unbidden, her hand crept around his neck, drawing him closer.

A piercing wolf-whistle jarred them back to reality, startling her into a vivid blush. The jogger waved as he passed them by, the smile on his face widening as he saw the blush bloom across her face. As she pulled reluctantly away from her husband's embrace, a flash of blue caught her eye. Glancing over, she watched as a small blue paper snowflake landed on her husband's arm. This one read, 'He'll share his ice cream, that's how you know it's love.' She peered up again, this time seeing a large cream-colored snowflake swirling delicately through the air. As she caught it in her outstretched hand she read the small orange letters written on it, 'Love is when you do something silly, just to make her smile.'

Suddenly, the air was full of blue and white snowflakes, falling and spinning gently to the ground, fluttering all around them. She scooped up a handful, reading the little messages written on each. 'Smile at him every morning. That's the key.' 'If you're happy, tell each other.' 'Love means you'll change the cat box.' 'If he'll hold your hair back when you have to throw up, it's definitely love.' 'Kissing is gross, but I guess hugs are ok.' 'Love is when he knows you're wrong, but doesn't make you admit it.' Eyes shining with tears and laughter, she reached out to catch the falling snowflakes. Every one was different, just as they should be, each giving her advice about love.

Then she heard the giggling. Looking up at the bridge, she saw them. Lined up along the railing, leaning over to toss the snowflakes off the edge, were at least sixty of her students, all waving and smiling down at her, their teachers strung out in a line behind them.

She turned to her husband and threw herself into his arms, covering his face with kisses. Joyful tears streaked unheeded down her face. "Did you do this for me?" she cried.

He hugged her close. "Na," he said playfully. "Must have been elves."

"I've always been very fond of elves. Thank you." she whispered, tugging him down for a kiss. As he bent low to kiss her, a loud collective gagging sound from above made her giggle, and had her husband sweeping her instead into an impromptu waltz.

There under the bridge they danced until the snow at last stopped falling and the kids all ran down to join them, scooping up snowflakes and tossing them into the air with glee.

"Merry Christmas Mrs. G!" they shouted, as they danced and jumped around her, gathering the snowflakes into one big pile.

"Happy Christmas my little dears! Thank you all! Now, get lost so I can kiss my husband..." They all giggled and snorted as they danced away.

* * *

I still have those snowflakes too. Every single one.