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GROWING UP IN SNOWFLAKE Hollow was one of the greatest things to ever happen to me. Possibly the greatest thing. It sounds incredibly strange to say that, but it was true. My childhood in the tiny town was idyllic, and nearly all of my favorite memories still revolved around being there with my parents. I was an only child, but I never remembered being lonely or feeling like I was missing out on anything.
My mother and father were always doing something with me. I wasn’t one of those children who came home from school to an empty house or spent breaks alone in my room or kicking cans down the alleys. Kids still did that, right? Maybe not, but the point remains the same. Snowflake Hollow was small and tight-knit, but that didn’t mean it was boring. There was never a lack of things to do, and if my parents felt like we’d already done everything in the area enough or they just wanted to mix things up, they weren’t afraid to jump in the car for an adventure.
I often wished I was as bold and outgoing as they were. These were the kind of people who would run outside in the middle of the night to catch the first snowflakes of winter on their tongues or slow dance in the middle of the grocery store aisle. I had the fantastic distinction of growing up kind of a nerd. I happily jumped into their adventures with them, but when I was in school, I didn’t share their same zest. I was more likely to keep mostly to myself with a small group of friends and a lot of books.
That part might not have necessarily fit into that idyllic mold I was talking about. But it wasn’t miserable. I would say my teenage angst quotient was kept to a minimum, and my college entrance essay didn’t involve expounding on any trauma or massive hurdles I had to overcome.
Even after I left for college, I came back frequently to visit. I loved the feeling of Snowflake Hollow and the sense that no matter what I encountered or was dealing with in the outside world, I could come back here and feel like everything was alright. Sometimes I’d pack up friends from school and bring them back to have Thanksgiving dinner with us so they wouldn’t spend the holiday alone.
And every one of them got to have the unique experience that was Snowflake Hollow at the holidays. Here, Halloween decorations didn’t linger. Carved pumpkins, cobwebs, and ghosts were welcome, but come November first, they better be on their way back to storage to make room for the Christmas extravaganza that seemed to explode right after the last house with candy poured into a trick-or-treater’s bag and turned off their porch light.
Harvest displays intermingled with early Christmas lights and garlands, and by the time Thanksgiving actually rolled around, there were more polar bears than Pilgrims making up the decorations around town. If there was one thing Snowflake Hollow always did right, it was Christmas. The whole season. I looked forward to it every year.
A lot of people think the whole magic of Christmas thing is only for children, but that wasn’t how it worked in Snowflake Hollow. Everyone got wrapped up in the spirit and got that special twinkle in their eye. Groups of friends or families bundled up and drank cocoa while they caroled around the neighborhoods without a single shred of irony. People greeted them at the door with cookies. Children and adults alike made snow angels during the rare wintery storms. Whispers about Santa came from people of all ages, and while the parents would look at each other with those knowing winks, there were times when even they would have a flicker of belief. Here in Snowflake Hollow, magic was real, and it was for everyone.
It got harder after my father died. There was less sparkle in the air after that. But my mother and I tried hard to keep all the traditions alive. She kept decorating and doing everything she could, and I kept coming back to Snowflake Hollow. Through college and the first few years of my career, I came back a few times a year and always felt like I was coming home.
But after those few years without my father, when the loneliness really started to settle in, my mother decided she couldn’t be in Snowflake Hollow without him anymore. She left and moved closer to her extended family, so that was where I started visiting.
It had been a few years since then, and I hadn’t seen Snowflake Hollow since. My mother didn’t want to worry me when her medical problems started getting serious, and she decided to move back to our town without telling me. I didn’t know she was back until a few months back when she called to let me know that she was struggling on her own and had moved into an assisted living facility after selling the family home she’d kept for rental income over the years.
My mind spun when I heard that. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to the house. I didn’t get to help my mother move and settle in. It was like she’d made all these major decisions without me, and I felt left out of the entire process. But in a way, it didn’t surprise me. That was Mom. She didn’t like to cause trouble. She didn’t like to feel like a burden to anyone. Especially me.
I’d been planning for my next trip to visit her to be at the holidays, so I just had to change where I was visiting. Now, I was back in Snowflake Hollow. It was a little bit surreal. After a lifetime of the town being like an anchor for me, I hadn’t seen it for years, and now that I was back, it felt like I hadn’t ever left. Everything was pretty much exactly the same as the last time I saw it.
There were a few little differences. A new business or two had cropped up. Some people had freshened up the color of their shutters or added a new lawn decoration. But it still gave me the same warm, nostalgic feelings. I could still name the families in most of the homes and had specific memories of the stores, restaurants, and other spots.
My car automatically went to the neighborhood where I grew up. I realized there was nowhere for me to go halfway down the street. The house was someone else’s. I still slowed down in front of it, just to get another look. Whatever family bought it had already gone full-on with the decorations. It was missing something without the lights on since it wasn’t quite afternoon yet, but I could see the potential. A flood of memories of my father washed over me. Decorating for Christmas was something he and I shared. My mother handled most of the inside of the house, but when it came to things like lights, signs, and inflatables, that was all Dad and me.
I could still see him planning out the lights starting in September, always wanting to try to improve on what he had done the year before. Then we’d get started in November. He made sure the lights were arranged in different sections that were individually operable so he could choose what to turn on each night. Throughout November, he would gradually turn on more and more every few nights. Then after Thanksgiving dinner, we’d have our grand illumination.
I smiled at that memory. It still stung a little bit, but that was alright. A little bit of ache and missing him in my heart was well worth all the joy and happiness it still brought me to think about him. It was a whirlwind finding out my mother was back in Snowflake Hollow and everything was so different, but now that I was here, it was all worth it.
I was home for the holidays. Even if it wasn’t quite the same and felt a little strange, I was excited.
Giving one last look at the house, I drove out of the neighborhood and started across town. I’d made really good time with my trip into town, so I had arrived earlier than I expected. It gave me enough time to go by the bakery for some coffee and one of the incredible croissant sandwiches that showed up on the menu right around this time every year. Stuffed with turkey, gravy, and cranberry sauce, it was like filling an extra-buttery dinner roll with a holiday dinner and eating it straight from your hand. Essentially, nirvana.
When I finished my early lunch, I made my way toward where I was staying. The realization that without the family home, I didn’t have anywhere to stay when I visited added to the overall shock of all the news from my mother. Especially considering Snowflake Hollow didn’t even have a hotel. I didn’t know quite what I was going to do. The thought of staying in a neighboring town went through my mind, but that wouldn’t be the same.
That was when I heard there was a new bed-and-breakfast in town. As soon as I heard that, it made perfect sense. The town was adorable any time of year and a great place to visit, but at Christmas, it was a sight to behold. Tourists already came in from other towns just to take in the atmosphere and be a part of traditions like the annual outdoor market and fair. Having a bed-and-breakfast gave them a place to stay right in the midst of it all. And that was exactly what I was going to do.
I recognized where I was going as the GPS instructed me toward the far side of town. This was an older area of the Hollow, where big sprawling houses brought to mind generations before when wealthy people would come out of the cities to summer in the fresh, sweet air. Then they started coming for the holidays because it felt so much more personal and cozy. After a while, they just stayed, and Snowflake Hollow as a year-round town was born.
For the most part, these houses were still occupied by the same families who lived in them all those years ago. But there was one, the biggest and most impressive of the old-style mansions, that sat on a small hill looking out over a large plot of land, that had been empty for as long as I could remember. Turning it into a bed-and-breakfast was a perfect idea.
I pulled up in front of the White Christmas Inn and caught sight of something a little strange. A woman was up on a ladder leaned against the front of the house, struggling as she tried to hang an unruly strand of Christmas lights. I could already tell this was not going to go well for her, and I got out of the car as fast as I could. She was leaning precariously as I approached, and I could see she was definitely going to fall. I didn’t want to startle her by calling out to her and possibly making the crash worse, so I just rushed toward her and opened my arms.
I managed to catch her right as she tumbled down.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The woman looked up at me and brushed a piece of hair away from her face. I couldn’t believe it.
“Holly?”
