The Snow Dancer (Friday Fantasy)

I close my eyes…
There is a darkness upon me, my own personal globe of night. If I push, it gives. If I move, it moves with me. Where am I?
The answer seems to lay beyond my cage, a luminous stirring in this fabric of enforced evening. Something stirs.
She emerges as a candle then lantern then a chandelier of twirling white light. She dances, sways to some unheard orchestra, and as she does, it begins to snow. Her face brightens as the first flake touches her pale skin, beams at the second and oohs at the third. So there is sound in this place.
I try to call to the girl, for she is a girl, the happiest girl I’ve ever seen, but my voice is stolen and so I watch.
It is a strange sensation to observe purity. But I do. There are no words to encapsulate her perfection, she is everything and more. The snow gathers upon and around her until almost knee deep, yet she dances on. She pirouettes and twirls, leaps and spirals, as slowly, ever so slowly, she fades away.
I wake to a dark, winter’s morning. The girl in the snow globe is still, the last gift my momma ever bought me. And all I can think of as I lay there, all I wish, is if only I could tell momma that I’d seen the girl dance. Just one more time.

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