by Grace Bailey
short fable for class-just thought i'd put it in
|Liam ran through the snow, leaving small footprints behind as his short legs worked to get up the powder-covered hill. Suddenly his foot stuck in the snow and he tripped, landing flat on his face as the whole front of his body sank into the snow. Abruptly, Liam's mother ran up behind him and circled her arms around his waist, pulling him up.
“You okay?” his mother asked, sounding concerned. Liam nodded and began to take off again with his mother close behind. When they reached the top of the hill, Liam sank down to his knees, breathing heavily. When he caught his breath, he and his mother began to play around in the snow, making snow forts and snow angels and burying each other in the soft wite powder.
Soon, Liam grew too tired to continue playing in the crisp, cool air of the wintry day. His mother led the way back down the hill, with Liam trailing behind her. Before they went inside their house, though, Liam scooped up a handful of snow, rounding it into a ball before slipping it into the pocket of his snowsuit. He was careful in making sure the snowball didn’t lose its shape.
The next morning, Liam woke up to see a fresh layer of snow falling outside his window. He hurried to get dressed and eat breakfast before yanking on his snowsuit and running outside. He reached into the pocket of his snowsuit to get the snowball he had made the day before, but all his fingers found was water. His face twisted with confusion and anger.
“Where’s my snowball?” he demanded when he opened the door.
“I don’t know, dear.” his mother responded, kneeling down so they were face-to-face.
“Well, it was in my pocket and now it’s not, so somebody stole it!” Liam cried angrily. His mother reached into his pocket and, as Liam had, felt only water. But she knew what had happened.
“Darling,” she said in a soothing voice, “I think your snowball might have melted.”
Liam frowned. “No, it couldn’t have melted. I protected it!”
Liam’s mother smiled patiently. “Well, darling, what happens when ice gets warm?”
“It turns into water…” Liam responded, not comprehending.
“Yes, and what was your snowball made out of?”
“Mhm, and what’s in your pocket now?”
“Water…” Liam said, finally realizing the sad fate of his snowball. “Oh.”
His mom nodded. “But, you can always make another one.”
Liam glared at the floor. “But I don’t want a different one. I want my other one back! I loved it!”
“I know, dear,” said his mother, unendingly patient with Liam’s childish behavior. “But sometimes, the things we love go away. Do you remember the snowball?”
“So keep that memory right here-” she patted his chest “-so you will always remember your special snowball. Even if you make new snowballs, you’ll always have the memory of your best one. Right?”
“Right,” Liam responded, finally content. He smiled. “Right.”