Letters in the Snow

By Anita P. Seavey

To all those who died this day in history,
December 7, 1941, in the attack on Pearl harbor;
and to all those who fight to keep our country free.

Thank you.

     The snow was falling in great flakes that drifted from a gray sky to the frozen ground below. Austin pulled his knit cap farther over his ears as he tripped down the porch steps and trudged to the barn. Christmas lights from the house lit his way, but that evening didn't seem as special as it had always been through the years.
Austin coughed in the cold air and kicked his boot into a drift. He wished that Marcus was here. For the millionth time, his mind raced through all of the things they used to do together. They would race to the barn for chores and despite Marcus' longer legs, Austin somehow always won. Marcus would grin at him as they crashed into the barn door, the gesture only going to prove to Austin how much faster his brother could really go.

     “You're getting faster every day,” Marcus would say, a hand ruffling Austin's cap.

     “You know you let me win,” Austin would grumble as they entered the softly lit interior of the barn. Marcus would just shrug a little and smile.

     “You don't know that. You're growing up, little brother, I just have to remind you every now and then,” he winked. Austin couldn't help a grin as he snatched a pitch fork to begin feeding. The brothers would race to see who could fill their hay feeders first, then Marcus would check the waters and Austin would start milking the cows. Marcus had always made him feel special.

     Austin sighed as he flipped a bucket over and sat down to begin milking the cows on his own. Every stream of milk that hit the bottom of the pail reminded him of how much he missed hearing the sound of his brother milking in the stall behind him.

     As Austin finished, he stood and looked around him. The soft glow of the barn blended with the smells of dust, hay, and living things. Austin set down his milk pail and climbed into the hay loft, seating himself just inside the window where he could look out over the sparkling white farm with the moon hanging above it in the dark sky.

     He remembered the last time he had sat there with Marcus. He had seen Marcus sitting, just as Austin was now. He had climbed up in the hay loft to find his brother lost in thought, his gaze never straying from the night around them.

     “Austin,” he began thoughtfully, his words delaying slightly until he finally continued. “never be afraid to do what's right. Remember that no matter what happens, no matter what might change, Jesus is always the same. With Him we always have hope.”

     Marcus' words sounded in Austin's mind. He knew that if he closed his eyes, he could imagine his older brother sitting next to him in the straw, just like it was supposed to be.

      Instead, he climbed back down out of the hay loft, clicking the barn door shut as he stepped back outside into the falling snow. The warm glow of the house windows beckoned invitingly, but Austin ignored it and let his gaze fall to the layer of snow at his feet.

     He began it unconsciously, as though his boot knew better of what to do than his mind did, but he watched as he slowly began forming a letter in the snow. He and Marcus had always done it, every Christmas Eve. They would find the perfect patch of unblemished ground and draw a message in the snow.

     Austin looked around him, his gaze lighting on a section of pure white snow sparkling below the yard light not far off. He broke into a run towards it and began tracing letters in the soft snow with the toe of his boot. It hurt as he took up the challenge, and he couldn't help the tears that froze to his eyelashes as he worked through the special tradition on his own. He drew with the utmost of care, the pain of doing it alone soon pouring into the simple work and creating the words that he and his brother had always drawn together.

     Austin dashed a hand over his eyes as he stepped back to observe his work. They read Merry Christmas. It might have been simple, or childish, or silly, but it was a little piece of his brother. They had always done this for fun, as a game in the snow. But it felt different this year. It felt more like a silent remembrance... a prayer.
      He remembered standing in front of his brother a year ago. Marcus, dressed in his stiff navy uniform, had placed a hand on Austin's shoulder.

     “Take care of the home front while I'm gone,” he had instructed solemnly.

     “Yes sir,” Austin saluted. Marcus nodded and smiled down at his little brother. Then, clearing his throat, he bent down so that he stood eye to eye with Austin.

     “I'm expecting you to be strong while I'm not here little brother. I want you to remember something, in case I'm not here to remind you myself someday.”

     “But you will be,” Austin had insisted quickly. Marcus took a deep breath.

     “But if I'm not, I want you to always remember that Jesus is our strength and our true calling. Only through Jesus is true freedom found. Got it?”

     Austin stared at his older brother and nodded a little. “Got it.”

     Marcus' solemn gaze softened and he nodded. “You'll do good, little brother.”

     That smile flashed through Austin's mind as he looked down at his letters in the snow. Marcus would never be coming home, but he left behind him a memory and lasting hope for his little brother that Christmas. It was a strength that would stay with Austin for many years to come.

     . Through Marcus' sacrifice and the sacrifice of hundreds of soldiers, Austin could live in a land where he was free. He was free to believe that Jesus Christ was born in a manger, and because of that gift, death was never the end.
     Austin once again looked back to the day he had last seen his brother. Marcus had given him a hug and told Austin that he loved him. Austin hadn't been able to answer, but Marcus knew

     Austin looked up from the words to the star studded sky above him and managed a little smile.

     “Merry Christmas, Marcus. I love you. Thank you.”