Kidy
It happens while you are eating breakfast, little one. The window goes quiet and white, and the first snow of the whole year comes down in slow, fat, tumbling flakes. You are out the door before your second boot is even on, and Grow comes skidding after you into a world gone soft.
Grow stands very still in the middle of it, ears full of snow, and makes a solemn announcement: 'I am going to catch the most perfect snowflake in the world. And then I am going to keep it. Forever. In my pocket.' Grow pats the pocket. It looks like a very serious plan.
You hold out your mitten and one lands right on it. You lean in close, so close your nose almost touches, and oh! There is a tiny star inside it. A real one, with points and lines and little branches, and it is not like any other. 'Grow, LOOK!' you shout. But by the time Grow looks, there is only a small wet dot on the wool. You catch another. Also a star. Also gone.
Grow's pocket is soggy and empty, and Grow's ears droop all the way down. 'I wanted to keep one,' Grow says, very quietly. You put your mitten next to Grow's paw, and this time you both watch the same flake at the same moment, together, until it melts. Grow sniffs. 'Some beautiful things are not for keeping,' Grow says. 'They are for right now.'
You walk home through the falling snow, and Grow's pocket is still wet, but Grow is smiling. 'I kept one after all,' says Grow, tapping the side of its head. 'The one we looked at together.' Then Grow asks, 'So, little one... did we grow a little today?' You did. 'Here is your little grow for tomorrow,' says Grow. 'Share one look with somebody. Point at something, and wait until they see it too.' See you tomorrow, little one.