A wish of snow

A wish of snow

Every morning when I wake up I look out my window to see the snow. But every morning is the same because I still haven’t seen any at all. Momma and Poppa say that if I wish hard enough, one day I’ll wake up with four feet of snow outside, but I don’t understand because I wish and I pray and still nothing like always.

If we had a car, they said, they would drive me far north to the snowy mountains so I can have my dream come true, but we don’t have a car and we live in the middle of nowhere. Poppa used to have a truck that was for getting supplies from town, but he had to sell it because there wasn’t enough money for medicine.

Every minute of every hour I sit in my bed by the window. I can barely move because my bones hurt, but Momma says everything will be alright. I don’t think so. I feel weaker every day. At times I can’t move my arms at all and I feel like my heart will stop beating someday, too. But I can’t die. I have to see the snow. Before I fall asleep forever, I want to feel it in my hands and throw it in the air to let it fall on my head.

Every night after every day, I fear I might never wake up. We have no more medicine and no means of getting any, and my bones and head hurt like crazy. I wish we didn’t live in the middle of nowhere. I wish it snowed like twenty feet. And I wish I’d never gotten sick.

But wishing has done nothing so far. Despite my wishing, I still live in a dry farm out in a field, it still doesn’t snow, and I’m getting sicker each day. Even though wishing doesn’t work, I still wish that Momma and Poppa are right.

Maybe if I wish hard enough, one morning I’ll wake up and see the snow.

by Ralph Serr


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