The Challenge Of Snowfall

Mary Stacy



“Come here, you have to see these!”

A small form tentatively moved out from under the sheltered arch onto the broad expanse of the stone terrace, covered from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, with only the large, liquid eyes showing above the bright scarf that hid his face from the bridge of his nose downward, until it wound around his neck, the weave of color a stark contrast against a bleak and sunless background.

“See?” She held her hand out, the flakes silhouetted against the dark fabric of her gloves, “They are all hexagonal in shape, but no two are the same. I think that’s amazing.”

The boy’s head tilted, peering at the snowflakes as they floated onto her outstretched hands.

“Yes, Mother, I see.” The muffled response made his normally low-pitched voice even softer.

Amanda brushed the flakes from her hand and moved closer toward her son, pulling the hood of his cloak tight. He seemed so small and vulnerable against the stark, bleached background. The massive quartz blocks that the embassy on Naheer was constructed of seemed to blend into a single mass with the low lying gray clouds and the sprinkling of flakes that fell from them. She felt a sudden wrench of her heart, realizing that even here, far from either Vulcan or Earth, their son seemed to stand out alone against the world.

“Are you too cold?”

She didn’t think he would admit it if he was – in that way at he was much like his father. Spock shook his head. She had decided to take advantage of the rare time she had to not just tell him but to show him something of her own childhood, and hoped that she still had bit of time before the temperature really did become too much.

“You know, when I was your age, we couldn’t wait until it got cold enough each winter for snow. And when it finally came, we would all celebrate all day with sledding and snow ball fights…”

“You fought, Mother? You would fight others with this snow?”

She supposed Sarek would not have condoned her choice of words, but nevertheless, they were already out.

“Well, we wouldn’t really fight. It was playing, a competition. We would pick the snow up like this…” She bent down and picked up a handful of the light, dry snow. It was too powdery, and would not pack, leaving her with a shapeless mass of an example.

“Mother?”

“Well, there are different types of snow, and this snow here is very pretty, but too loose and fine for a snowball. But believe me, with the proper kind of snow, and the right temperature, we could roll it into a good, solid shape and let them fly.”

She lost herself for a few brief seconds, staring off into the distance. It seemed so very long ago and far away. Where was that girl now who fearlessly went after all comers, always the last to give in and go home? She pulled herself from memories and into the now. “And if it was a very good snow, we would make snowmen, like on the Christmas card we got from Aunt Grace last year, remember?”

He solemnly shook his head.

“But Mother, what is the logic of being cold?”

She reached out and felt his thin shoulder shivering under the layers. It was selfish for her to keep him out there for the sake of her sudden homesickness for Earth. “It’s an excuse to go in and have hot chocolate!”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Let’s see what we can hustle up in the kitchen.”

As they moved back into the shelter of the embassy, she turned one final time and sighed. Her son would know a hundred words for sand and rock, but snow would be hers alone it seemed. She stooped down to grab one final handful and to her surprise, it stuck together. Laughing, she tossed the snowball into the air and she called to her son.

“Look, Spock, see?”

But he had already gone inside and she was left alone in the cold with her memories.

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“It was a disaster!” Amanda sighed, peering over the top of her seat and onto the street below. The rear-facing front seat was exposed to the elements and she focused her sight on the road. To her, this had always been magical, even when she was on Earth and had it to look forward to every year. Now, it was even more so, the coating of white seemed to change any world into something new and pure.

The partially-covered sleigh glided over the now hard-packed snow, pulled by a pair of lhern, which seemed to her nothing as much as a cross between a polar bear and a moose, massive bodies and heads crowned with large antlers, looping along on long, ungainly legs, wrapped in reins decorated with lighted crystals that gave off a gentle, melodic sound in sharp contrast to the size of their wearers.

“Do not take it too hard, Amanda,”

She turned back to face her husband, hidden in the recesses of the covered back seat of the sleigh. Light bounced off the angles of his face, with the pace of the harnessed team across the snow. It was warm under the hooded rear bench, with the heater on and blankets piled high against the cold, but she didn’t want warm, Right now she wanted to feel the brisk cold bite of the air against her cheeks, to feel the sharp cut of frost as she breathed, taking the icy cold deep into her lungs, making them feel clearer than they had in years.

“Spock has never experienced this before, and it can be most uncomfortable for one so young who does not yet have the full control of his body functions to help him keep warm.”

All she had really wanted her son, born and raised on a desert world to experience a little of what she had in life. They may have been millions on miles from Earth, but snow was still snow. Was it too much to ask?

She remembered the trembling he tried to hide as the snow softly fell around them, sticking to the black lashes, dark eyes below betraying—was it fear, or really just the cold?

Amanda felt a strong, sure grip take hold of her hand. She held her gaze away from him to the streets below, mindful of the sudden tears that stung her frostbitten cheeks. Sometimes, when she least expected it, it just seemed so hard. She held her husband’s hand, biting back the sudden wrench of her heart. The sleigh had turned into a residential section and she was surprised and nostalgic to see the homes trimmed in lights of all colors—it never ceased to amaze her how sentient beings all seemed to have some common things, like the need to shine light into the longest and darkest of a winter’s nights.

“Amanda.” He leaned forward from the shelter of the sleigh, and turned her head to face his. She lowered her eyes for a moment in an attempt to compose her self before looking up at him.

She squeezed his hand. It had started to snow again. The flakes glistening like gems all around them, reflecting the lights from the dwellings. The dinner had kept them out late into the night, and the city, so bustling and busy during the day hours was quiet now, with only the passing of an occasional sleigh and the soft patter of the teams’ hoofs on the snow-packed streets.

“Tomorrow there are no negotiations scheduled, so perhaps we can try this again. There is a chance my presence will reassure our son.”

“I knew there was a reason I married you.”

She moved from her seat in the open and nestled next to him in the rear seat, pulling the robes up around them both. It was dark back there, and there was no chance that any indiscretions would be seen from the street.

“Did I thank the ambassador for giving me my husband back for the night?”

He raised his brows in mock surprised, and she let laughter overwhelm her tears. She gently pulled his face down to hers and kissed him, long and tenderly.

Like the snow covering the cold, hard ground, that in its turn held within It the seeds of the coming spring, that was the true nature of her life, like a puzzle to be peeled away to the bright inner light of her love.