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February 09, 2011
I was looking out a window the other day at the smooth and sparkling surface of the snow. I saw there an odd sight.
What looked like a small snowball was lying on the snow—not a surprise. There were marks in the snow leading up to the “snowball”; literally “up”. The snow sloped slightly upwards from the wall of the building to where the “snowball” lay. It seemed unlikely that the small orb of snow had rolled up the banked whiteness of the glistening landscape.
So how did this small snowball get to where it was?
Perhaps the footprints explained the enigma.
There were tiny little marks in the snow, maybe an inch long each, in a pattern like someone had walked there—right foot, then left. But it would have to have been a tiny little someone.
That cannot be, of course; there is no elf-like human being who stands a mere six inches tall.
But the world would feel so much more magical if there were.
And, after all, why not? The world is much more magical than we know.
And who am I to deny the evidence of my own eyes.
And so I choose to believe that some small person played in the snow and carried that snow ball up the hill—perhaps as the base of a small snow man. And maybe, if I go outside and seek for it, I will find a snow angel where wee little arms and legs swept across the surface of the snow.
But only if I am open to the magic.