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The 1st fall of snow is not just an event ...
Two days ago was the third heaviest snowstorm in Lake Charles' history.
I remember the first time Snowfall almost killed me.
Outside our basement apartment window, the snow fell as softly as Mother's tears
You see, in Mother's mind, I was dying.
Detroit was snowed in, no cabs allowed on the streets, no neighbors across the hall.
We were too poor to afford a phone just new to Detroit.
My fever was so high, I burned with it.
She gave me the last of the aspirin, hugged me, and started to rock me in the bed.
"Look, baby ... the snowflakes are winter's butterflies."
And not wanting me to die in the quiet dark of the night,
Mother reached into her own troubled childhood and began re-telling me the Lakota teaching tales her own grandmother told her at night.
About Estanatlehi, whose love was warm but whose touch was cold.
But she must be near, for I was shivering so.
She came up with the name "Hibbs, the cub with no clue."
Mother pointed to the frosted window and swore she saw him clinging to the tree feet away.
She tweaked my runny nose and said that meant I was going to get better, for Hibbs watched over all sick children.
I must have believed her, for I got better.
My favorite toy was a stuffed bear ... who I kept until the house fire
I thought of Hibbs when I saw the heavy snowfall this Tuesday.
For a little over $5, you can get the audio book of little Hibbs.
By the way, Mother later showed me the claw marks Hibbs left on that tree.
Believe what you will.
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