The children packed three balls of snow with their icy mittens in the midst of the white flakes flying all around them. Their cheeks were the color of burning coals and their breath hung in the air like puffs from a steam engine. Slowly they began to chug as they rolled the balls around the courtyard gaining momentum. Round and round they wound as if on some wild track, trudging with well-worn rubber boots. They steamed and they stomped, laughing and giggling as the balls grew and grew.
At last only the biggest ball remained undone. All three children pushed and pulled, heaved and strained ’til it would budge no more. They piled the balls on top of each other and dad hoisted the littlest lad on his shoulder to carefully craft a smiling mouth and plunge in the big carrot nose. They all stood back, tired steaming engines, and admired their snowman. He was perfect.
A week went by and the snowman began to slowly melt. He now looked like he was leaning over staring at the small patch of dead grass peaking out of the snow. Another few days and he toppled over like a spilled three-scoop ice cream cone. Then with the sun beating down from above he was gone. The children came out to play in the courtyard with their trucks and their shovels stomping in the fresh mud puddles. They completely forgot about the snowman. He was gone.
I watched the snowman from my third-story window, and then I realized that I was just like the kids. As they were rolling snowballs I was writing down New Year’s resolutions. While they were busy forgetting about their snowman I was busy forgetting about my resolutions. They were derailed by trucks and puddles and I by papers and TV. I did not even notice my own snowman melting away ’til he was gone and life was back to its regular rhythms.
So, I ask you. What’s the state of your snowman on this fine winter’s even?