'Because We All Need the Snow' by Santino Prinzi
Each snowflake is individual, everyone knows. But you know snowflakes are made of ridges and grooves, ribs, rimes, and rockets. No-one can see them, but you like believing in unseen things. You have faith that each snowflake has a little mouth and a tiny pair of ears. They speak to you. They listen. You could politely request a blizzard and they’d invite everyone they know. You go outside and ask them, holding your palms open. You catch a few snowflakes on your gloves while others dissolve on the ground. You murmur to your snowflakes, in those little ears you believe in, and you ask them to try harder. Please, try harder, because you need them to smother everything they see with those beady eyes you’re certain they have. You want your kids to open their bedroom curtains this morning and see the world is glistening, that the world can glistening. You believe these snowflakes, if they have miniscule ears, would understand that this isn’t for you but it’s for them. You hope the snows spreads the word, spreads itself thick, hiding the truth for a day or two from the kids. Yeah, for the kids.