The first snowman I made with my father seemed to happen only yesterday

I sat up in bed, and looked out of my window.

I was young at the time. Maybe five, or four.

Big, white snowflakes matted the ground.

I remember my excitement. Oh boy, me and

Daddy are gonna make a

Snowman.

A snowman. I watched the older kids make them before

But it was my turn today.

Me and Daddy.

A snowman.



As soon as I woke Daddy up,

It seemed as though we were outside in a minute.

I was surrounded by little balls of falling light,

Falling life.

Me and Daddy, we were gonna pack that snow

together it was gonna be a snowman.

My dad started the snowball off.

It was very small when he let me start rolling it.

The ball was easy to roll when it was small.

But when it got bigger, I had trouble.

Daddy helped me roll it when it was as big as me.



When we had the basic body done,

I sat down, I was tired.

But Daddy said there was one more thing left.

He brought out a carrot stick and two pieces of charcoal.

Two eyes to see and a nose to breath and smell.

He said, that gave the snowman life.



I liked that snowman we made. It didn't last very

long, it melted pretty soon.

I realize now how crooked and small that first snowman was.

But sitting here with my son, I know it was perfect.