To view the world through the eyes of Abbey, who found nothing more delightful than building a snowman — who she named Boody — on a cold afternoon was a gift.
Last winter, my daughter Abbey made a snowman for the first time. My husband and I taught her what kind of snow to look for, how to roll the balls, then how to pack it all together so the head wouldn’t topple from the body. She was a quick learner — definitely because we had been reading Frosty the Snowman every night for weeks, just waiting for that first snowfall to bring him to life.
We found twigs from our walnut tree to make arms (walnut trees are always dropping branches…), and we
scavenged for stones on our driveway to create the eyes and mouth. We grabbed a carrot from the fridge for the nose. And the brown hydrangea flowers Abbey picked became the hat.
Together, our first winter as a family of four, we made a face that smiled back at us. I’d forgotten what simple joy lies in creating a snowman. Sometimes that’s all it takes to lift yourself out of the winter blues, to chase away the worries of life, to ease the stress.
To view the world through the eyes of Abbey, who found nothing more delightful than building a snowman — who she named Boody — on a cold afternoon was a gift.
Boody was around for weeks before he melted.
