A Family of Snowflakes

Snowflakes nestle in Grandma's stories by the fireplace. White speckled stars sprinkled on a cold December night, drifting in contentment , watching me sleep. Snowflakes, Central Park on Christmas morning, melting on my tongue, tasting like colorful, holiday window displays on 34th Street and turkey dinners stuffed with yesterdays. Smelling of youth and childhood... cousins and siblings snowmen and wooden sleds… sounding like icicles glistening quietly on the porch and songs wet with Grandpa's brandy. Snowflakes roll down hills of contagious giggles, stopping, starting scattering, wandering through each season, slowly, sadly drifting away like family.