One winter day in my seventh year of life, after sitting with Mot at a stone carving demonstration by Petunia, watching some repeat puppet shows, as well as a puppet show that a group of kids prepared, Theo, Francesca, Penelope, Mot, Elliot, and I left to find fresh snow blanketing the ground.

“Snow!” Theo and Elliot began making snowballs when I remembered something.

“Who wants to build a snowman?” I asked as Theo and Elliot pelted each other.

“A snowman?” Mot asked as Penelope winced at Theo getting smacked with a snowball.

“Yeah, a snowman.” I made a snowball and rolled it around. When it grew in size it relieved me that I hadn’t thought of nonsense that wasn’t real.

“Give me that giant snowball!” Theo reached for it with both arms.

I shoved him away. “No! I’m building a snowman. Wait and see how it turns out.”

He left to make more snowballs. Francesca joined their snow fight as Mot copied me. “Like this?” Mot rolled a snowball around.

“Yes. We are going to make three snowballs, each one a little smaller than the previous. We’ll stack them up, then we’ll make a face for it with a carrot for a nose and rocks or buttons for the eyes and mouth.”

“What do we do once we build it?” Mot asked as Penelope appeared torn at who she should help.

“Nothing. We leave it until someone knocks it down or it melts,” I said as we worked.

“It’s cold!” Francesca shrieked as Theo dumped a snowball down the back of her coat. “Elliot! Get revenge on Theo for me!”

Elliot threw a snowball at Theo’s face, but Theo ducked to avoid it. Elliot tossed his other snowball at Francesca, hitting her stomach. She gasped indignantly before chasing him with a snowball raised and ready. She didn’t stop even when Theo’s snowball hit the back of her head. Elliot eventually stopped running and took the snowball to his chest with dignity.

Mot helped me assemble our snowman as Penelope wandered around. We lifted the torso and head up together, Mot’s eyes shining at this simple joy. Did my eyes sparkle too? I felt full of light, warm and happy despite my cold nose.

Penelope dumped sticks, twigs, and rocks by our snowman and I thanked her. We didn’t have a carrot, so I used a twig for the nose, rocks for the eyes and mouth, and sticks for arms. I added three rocks down the torso.

“What are those for?” Penelope asked as I tried remembering any other details.

“I think it’s to represent buttons on a shirt or vest.” I didn’t know everything, that was for sure.

Elliot stopped throwing snowballs to check out the short snowman. “Huh. It’s not bad.”

“It’s more of a snow-kid than snowman, but you get the picture?” I dusted snow off my gloves. “We could give it a hat and scarf as finishing touches, but it’s good as it is.”

“We don’t have a hat,” Francesca said.

Theo plopped a dead leaf onto the snow-kid’s head. “There.”

“That’s not a hat,” Francesca told him.

Theo set his fists on his hips as his face scrunched with attitude. “And those aren’t eyes, nose, mouth, and arms either.”

“I think it works,” Mot said, sharing a grin with me. “We’ll have to build a whole snow family so he isn’t lonely.”

“I’ll build the best snowman!” Theo got to work. Elliot joined him and Francesca did too, working near Elliot. Penelope took a step towards them before working on her own as scrap collector.

We built three more snowmen before Elliot said we should go home before it got any later.

“Fine, but my snowman is the best,” Theo said proud of his handiwork. His snowman was the tallest, with mismatched sized arms and eyes too far up above the nose.

We all let him believe what he wanted.

***

Mot arrived bright and early at my doorstep on a fine, spring morning.

Mot grinned at me. “Want to come over to my house?”

“Let me ask for permission.” I hurried to Mom in the kitchen. “Can I go to Mot’s place?”

She paused her cooking. “You can go after breakfast. Invite Mot in and ask if he’s eaten.”

I dashed back to the door. “We can go after breakfast. Are you hungry?”

“No. I ate already,” he said as he came inside.

Theo’s door swung open. “Why are you here this early?”

“I thought we could go to my house this time. You’re free to come if you want,” Mot offered.

Theo scowled. “I can’t. I have plans with Elliot. The fun house is having a lesson on monster hunting from a real monster hunter.”

“What a shame,” I teased, unbothered to not have him leering over my shoulder at Mot.

I ate breakfast like a speed demon as Mot waited in the living room.

“Bye Theo! Bye Mom!” I called as I hurried to go.

Mot chuckled at me as Theo frowned and Mom smiled.

“Let’s go!” I said as I stepped outside.

Mot walked beside me, our arms swinging in sync but not touching.

“Are you that excited to see my house?” Mot asked.

“Is it a normal house? I imagined you lived in a treehouse or something magical.”

“It’s just a house,” he said, but his grin revealed he enjoyed my fervor. “I wish it was more magical, but sadly, it isn’t. It isn’t even one of the treehouses.”

“There are treehouses?!” I gaped at him as we walked down the dirt path.

“Built by show-offs,” Mot told me. “Do you want to live in some special house like that when you grow up and get married?”

“That sounds amazing! But wait, how do you get up and down? That sounds exhausting. I’d never want to leave, but would hate being cooped up.”

“Earth or wind magic or ladders. Yeah, I don’t think it sounds fun to have to descend a ladder whenever I wanted to go somewhere. I hate heights. Once, as a little kid, I visited my friend’s treehouse and turned into a sobbing mess when it was time to go. I refused to go anywhere near the door after one look down. My dad had to carry me down as I clung to him with my eyes squeezed shut.”

“I won’t plan any trips to treehouses with you then,” I said, enjoying being with Mot out in the fresh air. Our hands brushed and I became very concerned about diverting my attention from the electric jolt that brief contact gave me. “When I was little, I was afraid of the dark. Theo’s stories of monsters gave me nightmares.”

“Are you still scared of the dark?” Mot asked as we passed the path to Elliot’s home.

“No, not with my light.” I summoned it above my palm before extinguishing it.

We passed the turnoff to town, continuing on for a little while before the path opened into a great big clearing of houses. I looked up at the houses built up on the trees. They were proper houses, not little hideouts. The branches supporting them seemed too thick and numerous to be natural. One house was built at the top of a tree with its branches growing up around it.

“I think I’ll pass on asking for a visit to one of the treehouses,” I said at the sinking of my gut that I might be afraid of heights too.

“If you change your mind, I can ask my friend. I won’t go with you, but I’d cheer you on from safely down here.” He patted his foot twice on the ground before leading me to a perfectly normal looking cabin among the mishmash of buildings. They were angled facing different directions wherever the builders fancied, it seemed. It wasn’t the ethereal setting I pictured, but it was still amazing. There were mostly cabins, but there were some exceptions like stone houses, thatched cottages, along with the treehouses.

In the center of town though, I found a bigger celebratory area than the square. A band of four played as elves danced, some of them displaying magic while they danced, water and dirt arcing and swirling around. Nearby the dancers were chatting elves, as well as elves cooking as they bobbed to the music.

Mot opened a door and ushered me inside first.

“Your family?” I asked quietly as Mot headed past a living room with its floor free of clutter besides plenty of foot and shoe prints.

“They’re out and about.” Mot waved my concern away as he entered a room. His room.

I stepped inside as I asked, “Why do you go to town square if you have your own dance center here?”

“Because we like to share the joy,” Mot’s ready reply had me smiling.  

His bedframe looked like interweaving roots. His bed was only wide enough for one person and wasn’t made, the quilted blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed. There weren’t any clothes or anything littering the floor though. He had a bow and quiver hung up on his wall.

Mot stood to the side, letting me take in his personal space.

“I didn’t know you knew how to shoot arrows,” I said.

Mot shrugged. “I do, but I hardly use my bow. I’m no hunter.”

“I like these figurines.” I stepped up to the bookshelf without a single book on it, displaying random trinkets instead. The figurines reminded me of Dad’s wood carvings. “Who made them?”

“Petunia made some of them. She’s really talented at stone carvings. Other people don’t have the patience to learn it. One day I’m going to build amazing sculptures.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you wanted to make sculptures. That’s so cool. My dad makes small ones all the time out of wood.” Petunia, the librarian, always seemed too preoccupied with keeping watch of kids to catch them picking their nose before they stuck their booger on a book, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have talent in art and magic. I wondered what kind of stuff Mot would make. “What earth spell will you learn?”

“I haven’t decided. I keep changing my mind. That’s why I haven’t started learning yet. I think manipulating wood is the easiest, but maybe it would be better for the more challenging stone. What would you learn, if you could?” Mot asked as he sat on his bed. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit, besides the floor.

I remained standing, unsure about sitting on a boy’s bed. It made heat flood my cheeks. I fixated on a miniature statue of a turtle as I collected my wits. “Hmmm, I’m not sure. Maybe wood or dirt?”

The door that had been cracked open clicked shut.