The little girl swept her wispy black hair out of her face with a pink mittened hand, not feeling the bits of ice that clung to the fabric sting her cheek. She continued rolling the ball of snow towards the base of her snowman. The second piece was nearly too heavy to lift, but she managed, with much effort. When it was balanced perfectly, she sat down in the soft snow with a muffled “THUMP”, sighing. If only her dad could help her. They made a snowman every year together, but this year……The car accident had left him with a fractured spine…..There was no way he could do anything, much less come outside….She bit her lip and got up, wiping her face again, only making it colder. One more piece to go, the head. She started with a snowball and rolled it around and around in the snow, until it was big enough that she could almost wrap her arms around it all the way. It was also balanced precariously, a carrot nose appearing from a jacket pocket, a finishing touch added. She went inside, leaving it in the middle of the yard, right in front. She appeared again, a moment later in the doorway, her father by the hand. Softly, quietly, “I made a snowman for you this year, daddy.”. He squeezed her hand gently. “You did that all by yourself, Sasha?”. It was nearly taller than she was, the carrot nose crooked and slightly wilted, but the last thing she had added was a yellow hard hat. The same hat her father usually wore to work………