Published:
January 21, 2025
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Roads were closed. Windows were shuttered. Mrs. O’Hara sheltered inside, wrapped in four blankets. In other words, the grown-ups in Yuma, Arizona had finally voted to have a snow day.
Juniper decided to be the first outside that morning even if it meant being sneaky. No need for the penguin puffer jacket her Mom had just bought for the snowstorm, or the matching ear-muffs, wool socks, and boots. This was Juniper’s first snowfall, and she embraced it feet first. She burrowed her toes into the cozy layer of snow that blanketed her normally barren backyard.
Juniper fell back onto the pillow-soft ground. She only got up after creating a satisfactory snow angel. As she shook herself off, Juniper noticed that snow from her pajamas clung to her as huge, feathery wings. She flapped her arms, and the wings did too. But even as the wings grew bigger with each try, Juniper stayed on the ground.
“Whoa. You look like a bird.”
Juniper felt a snowball hit her from the back and turned to see a boy leaning against the fence.
“Hey!”
“Hi.”
“My name’s Juniper.”
“Cool, I’m Mateo.”
“Call me June.”
“Okay!”
Juniper ran over and grabbed Mateo’s hand. Even though he was a few inches taller, she pulled him along easily. There were many things about Mateo that Juniper could tell instantly: he was also four years old, he had a stupid smile, and he was definitely best friend material. He just needed to be able to survive sledding.
With a quick kick to a nearby snow pile, Juniper sent hundreds of flakes spinning. They clumped together as they fell, molding themselves into a sleek purple sled with four handles. Juniper took her position at the front. After several exhausting seconds, she looked back at Mateo.
“Quit wasting time!” she shouted.
Mateo looked confused and asked, “What is it?”
“A sled!”
“A what?”
“Something that you drive on the snow,” Juniper said. “My Nana showed me a picture of her with one as a kid. She’s from some part of Canada. Now stop asking questions and hop on!”
“On it,” Mateo said. He backed up several paces and then launched forward onto the sled.
The two of them had to hold tightly to their handles, or risk being flung into the snowbank. Between the smooth surface of the sled and the curved track that formed from the snow underneath, they resembled Olympic bobsledders. With each loop around the backyard, they gained speed.
“Over there!” Mateo said, pointing at the ramp that formed from the snow at the edge of the yard.
“No, no, no, no. Mom said not to leave the grass without her.”
“Where’s the grass?”
Juniper looked at her vast, frosty landscape, and said, “I don’t see any.”
With that thought, they soared over the ramp. Letting go of the sled, Juniper held her arms out and admired how her wings unfolded now that she had finally taken flight. Of course, Matteo’s scared shouting reminded her that flying really just meant falling. Fortunately, the snowman caught them.
Was the snowman always standing there? Juniper thought she had been the first outside. Either way, she gave the snowman a squeeze as she slid onto the ground. Mateo had less luck. He burst through the snowman’s chest and lay on the other side grumbling. The snowman didn’t seem to mind, since the snow patched itself up on its own.
“Mateo, say sorry to the nice sheriff,” June yelled. “You messed up his uniform.”
As she scolded her friend, a star appeared on the right side of its chest. The top sphere of the snowman, half the size of the lower two, suddenly gained a very regal cowboy hat.
Shaking the snow off his shirt, Matteo said, “Sorry son.”
“Son?”
“Yeah. You’re the mom, I’m the dad, and this is our son.”
“Fine,” Juniper giggled. “But only if he gets to be a Clem.”
Clem grew up quickly so that he could carry Juniper and Mateo on his shoulders. At Mateo’s insistence, the sheriff snowman wore a fine pair of boots and legs to match so that he could take them around the neighborhood. Every few steps, his backstory became richer. Biker jacket? Check. Beard? Of course. Eye patch? Two patches, actually. The snowman picked up traits like a snowball eats snow. The tour might have gone on forever, but Juniper saw the light flick on in her parent’s window.
“Clem, take me back,” Juniper said.
“Aw,” Mateo sighed.
“I know, but my parents told me not to come outside until they woke up.”
Mateo smiled, “Oh, okay. Well Clem, arrest June!”
They laughed, as their snowman dropped them off at the doorstep. Clem took up his post in the middle of the yard. The further the snowman made it, the less defined his features became. By the time Clem settled, he was little more than the sagging tower of snowballs he'd started as.
As Juniper and her friend walked up to her front door, Mateo seemed to shrink with every step. She thought he must be nervous meeting new adults, especially with the way her dogs Wacky Jackie and Memphis barked so loudly at the window. If her parents hadn’t noticed before, they would now.
“Stop shaking! Mom can’t be that mad at me with you here.”
“June? Who are you talking to?” Juniper’s mom asked, opening the door.
“Mom, this is,” Juniper said. Looking back, she saw that Mateo had vanished. “I guess he went home too.”
“Where’s your winter clothes?”
“In my room. It’s not that cold.”
Juniper’s mom shook her head but smiled at the wings still stuck to her daughter. Still, she swept the flakey feathers away, saying, “Dust yourself off. Can’t have you tracking those nano-machines into the house.”
“Mom, stop,” Juniper said. “They’re snowflakes.”

Copyright 2024 - SFS Publishing LLC
June's Snowman
A little winter magic never hurts
Joe T. Wood

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