The December Thaw

The new fallen snow reminds you of the cold winters in Buffalo. Look how it falls. It has been a few years since you've seen the white softness of a snowy afternoon. It feels like home. The calmness that lies outside is assured by the lazy gray sky that hangs overhead. You want to go back to your childhood on days like this. Buffalo is both far away and long ago, but the snow takes you there.

You left him alone. Can you recall the scene? School is canceled. The snow is deep. You and Louis are putting on your snow suits, boots, and mittens, anxious to go outside to play. Louis looks helpless as Mom gears him up for the frigid outdoors.

The snow gleams so brilliantly that it is impossible to see at first. That intense white bounces all around you and shoots right through your eyes. Once you adjust, your other senses can function. Listen. Nothing but a muffled hum ringing through the air. It's amazing how peaceful the city can be on a snowy day. The cold, the snow, buries the noise of traffic. It buries everything except the distant sounds of children laughing. Your hood prevents you from seeing little Louis next to you, but you hear his feet as they trudge through the snow. He sniffles. The sky isn't blue, or clear. It's a silvery hue all the way to the ground. It touches the tops of the houses. It's muddled above you like the old slush next to the curb of a busy street, but it melts over you like a soothing hug. The air rubs your exposed cheeks like a tongue runs over a slippery icicle. It's a perfect day to try out your new sled. There aren't any hills nearby, but you can build one on the front porch. You and Louis can go down the filled-in steps in a fantastic orange sled built for two. It has blue plastic handles along the sides for safety. Only the snow's too light. It's not packing well. The sled's longer than the ramp you're making.

Then Paul and Michael appeared. They wanted to get a football game going. You were given a choice. Go with them or stand by your little brother? It was easy at the time. It’s not so easy now.

Your friends pull you away. They urge you to go with them. You tell Louis to keep building the ramp. It'll still be fun. He'll be fine.

Remember the look on his face? His rosy red cheeks were being pushed together because the hood was tied snug around his little round head. His big brown eyes reflected confusion and sorrow at the thought of you leaving. He wanted to go with you, but you knew he would just get in the way. You knew he couldn't play football with the older kids. You knew he was too little, so you left him by the front porch, the ramp for the sled not finished. You tried to reassure him that he could have fun on his own, going down a half-built ramp of snow in a big orange sled built for two. The snow came up to his waist. His arms stuck out a little because his clothing was so thick. He could hardly move much less build a ramp and go down it in a sled. As you walked down the street, you kept looking back at your brother.

"He'll be okay," Paul said.

You keep walking. Louis stands motionless in his tightly bundled snowsuit, watching as his big brother is once again stolen away from him. You see him slowly disappear into the distance. Still looking. Still hoping. Alone in the snow.

Isn't it funny how you used to jump into bed with Mom on Saturday mornings, and ask her when Louis would be old enough to play with you? He was just a baby then, and was usually in bed with Mom when you asked that question. Maybe he heard you. Perhaps your eagerness to play with him gave him a reason to grow up. It wouldn't take long for your wish to come true.

Everything you liked, he loved. Mom would wonder how you could listen to "garbage" like Iron Maiden and Def Leppard. Louis would jump to your defense because "Wasted Years" was a good song as long as you thought so. No matter how bad things went at school, he was always there for you. Things didn't seem so lonely when you had Louis waiting for you to come home. And yet you managed to leave him behind. The friends who deserted you at school were still more important than your brother. You had the chance to forge a relationship with Louis no one could have ever broken. Too many times you let that chance slip away. Even after he grew up a little, instead of inviting him to come into your room, he would have to knock on the locked door first and come back when you weren't busy. The time would come when Louis would grow tired of being locked out. The time would come when Louis would stop knocking.

Now you have a hard time dealing with what Louis has become. The compassionate little boy who was once proud to be called your brother turned into something very different. The change came without warning. Suddenly Louis began locking his door. You forced Louis to find his own way through the snow, and now that he has, you wish you had another chance at being his navigator.

Old photographs of days past fail to rekindle memories of the Louis you once knew. Instead they serve as a reminder of one brother's failure to return the love he was given. The love you have for him now is only a remnant of a hope that one day little Louis will come knocking on your unlocked door. School's canceled; maybe he'll ask you to help him build a snow fort. When it's finished, you can dig a secret tunnel through the inner wall that no one will ever find.

He's on the phone. You're on hold. Listen to the conversation, maybe you'll learn something. Interrupt. At least you'll get his attention (maybe you'll keep it). Wait, he's getting up, he's leaving.

"Louis."

Can you find the brother you once knew in the one that now stands before you?

Louis was left in the deep snow long ago, and it's too late to go back to him.