That day was bitterly cold.
The wind whispered against the windows as I stood by the glass, gazing up at the colorless sky. Inside the house, where the warmth of the fireplace pushed back against the winter chill, my mother sat quietly in front of a canvas, her brush moving gracefully.
She was painting the snow-covered city—rooftops blanketed in white, lampposts dusted like pastries, the world wrapped in a peaceful silence.
"…Mom," I asked, not taking my eyes off the pale sky, "how is snow made?"
She turned to me, a soft smile blooming across her lips.
"What do you think, Alicia?" she replied gently.
I brought a finger to my chin and tilted my head.
"Umm… Is it just frozen rain?"
She chuckled, not in a teasing way, but as if genuinely pleased with my answer.
"That's a good guess," she said, "but it's not quite right. Snow is different from rain."
"Really?" I blinked.
Mom always knew everything. She was the one who taught me about stars, animals, how to bake cookies—and now, snow. Whenever I wanted to know something, she was always there with an answer.
"Snow forms from tiny ice crystals in the clouds," she began, her fingers gently stroking my hair. Her voice was like a lullaby—calm, slow, full of warmth. "It starts with tiny particles—specks of dust or dirt. When they get carried high into the sky, to the coldest parts of the clouds, they meet the water droplets. And that's when the magic happens… they turn into crystals of ice."
She paused for a moment and looked up through the frosted window, her eyes tracing something far beyond.
"And when those crystals bump into each other, they begin to stick together, melting just a little before freezing again. Little by little, they grow larger. That's how snowflakes are born."
"…Hmm. I don't really get it," I murmured, pressing my face closer to the glass.
"Ufufu… Then come here, let's take a look together," she said warmly.
Rising from her chair, she stepped over to the window and gently pulled it open.
A cold breeze slipped in, carrying with it the scent of snow.
"Whoa…" I whispered.
Floating in the soft morning light, a single snowflake landed on her gloved palm—a delicate, glimmering star of frost. It sparkled like a tiny gem, so light it seemed like it would disappear if we breathed too hard.
"Snow travels a long way down from the highest part of the sky," Mom said softly, holding her hand out to me.
"That's why… it becomes something this beautiful."
Her gaze fell on me then, gentle and full of something I didn't quite understand yet. Maybe pride. Maybe love. Maybe something only mothers know how to show.
I stared at the little snowflake in awe, as if it were a treasure—fragile, fleeting, and somehow, deeply precious. I kept staring for a long time, not wanting to look away.
The Next Day
The morning sun peeked shyly behind layers of thick, gray clouds. The world outside had transformed into a blanket of white, and I couldn't contain my excitement.
"Mom, I'm going out to play!" I said as I clumsily put on my boots by the front door. "I want to make the biggest snowball ever!"
My mother, who was folding laundry in the living room, glanced at me with a soft smile. "Alright, but don't go too far, okay? Your father will worry."
"I won't! Promise!"
With that, I stepped outside. A cold breeze greeted me instantly, brushing my cheeks with a gentle sting. But I didn't mind—it was winter's way of saying hello.
I walked to the nearby park, where everything looked like it had been dipped in sugar. Trees wore white coats, benches were dusted with snow, and the whole world sparkled under the pale sky. I played by myself, running around, building tiny snowmen, and throwing snowballs into the air. Time slipped away quietly. I must have been there for over an hour.
Eventually, the cold crept in beneath my coat and gloves. My fingers were numb, my nose red, and a strange loneliness started to settle in my chest.
Maybe it was time to head home.
As I walked, the snow fell harder, and a thick fog began to roll in. The world turned blurry and quiet, like someone had muted the sound around me. I looked around, but nothing seemed familiar anymore.
"…Mom?" I called out weakly, my voice lost in the wind.
No one answered.
The snow kept falling. My small hands trembled, and I couldn't even cry properly. The air was too cold, stealing even my tears away.
My feet trudged forward on instinct, though I wasn't sure where I was going. That's when I saw it, a small wooden shack standing alone in the snow. Like a fragile memory from another world.
I hurried inside and sat down, hugging my knees tightly.
"…Hic…hic… I wanna go home…" My voice cracked as I sobbed, alone and scared.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps—fast, urgent, like someone running. My heart skipped. I stood up, peeking through a gap in the door.
A boy was running through the snow. His green hair fluttered behind him, and he looked like he was being chased by something unseen. Without thinking, I called out.
"P-Please! Help me!"
The boy stopped in his tracks, turning toward the shack. For a moment, I was terrified he wouldn't understand me. After all, this was Japan… and I had shouted in English.
But he came closer.
"…Why are you in there?" he asked.
To my relief, he spoke English—though a bit rough, it was understandable. And when I looked into his eyes, I saw the color of the sea—deep, clear blue.
"I… I wanna go home," I said, shivering.
His expression changed—like a flicker of concern mixed with something else I couldn't quite name.
"Do you still remember where your house is?"
"I do. It's near the crossroads in the city."
"…That far?" he murmured. "Okay. How about you come with me first?"
My mom always told me not to follow strangers—but this was different. This was an emergency.
"…Okay."
I reached out and grabbed his hand. It was warm.
We arrived at his house not long after. A cozy, modest home with a tiled roof, slightly hidden by trees dusted in snow.
"Ara, Himeya, you brought a friend home?" a gentle voice called out as we stepped inside. A woman, likely his mother, walked out from the kitchen.
"She's not my friend, Mom," the boy—Himeya—replied. "I found her in that old shack near the edge of the woods."
"You went that far again? Honestly…" She sighed and then turned to me, her gaze softening. "Are you alright, dear?"
I understood her words, but I couldn't answer in Japanese.
"Nihongo… wakarimasen," I said carefully.
"She can speak English," Himeya added quickly.
"Oh, really? Well then—are you okay, little girl?" she asked again, switching to English with surprising fluency.
"I'm okay… but I want to go home," I replied, my voice small.
The woman glanced out the window, her face thoughtful. "The snow's falling even harder now. Do you remember your home phone number?"
"Yes, ma'am," I nodded.
"Alright, then. Here—write it down for me." She handed me a small slip of paper and a pen. I quickly scribbled the number down.
"Himeya, take this little girl to the living room and give her a warm towel."
"Yes, ma'am. C'mon, follow me," he said, waving his hand gently.
As we walked down the hallway, he suddenly turned around.
"Oh, right—what's your name?"
"Alicia… Alicia Lunar Rose."
He blinked, then shouted back toward his mother, "Her name's Alicia! Alicia Lunar Rose!"
I couldn't help but giggle softly at how loud he said it.
And just like that, we continued walking side by side, toward the warmth of the living room—two strangers brought together by the snow.
In the cozy living room of a house I didn't recognize, I sat quietly on a soft, warm sofa. The scent of tea lingered faintly in the air. Meanwhile, the boy who had brought me in earlier disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned, holding a warm, fluffy towel in his hands.
"Here," he said, offering it to me with a small smile. "Cover yourself with this."
"Thank you..." I accepted the towel, feeling the heat seep into my cold fingertips.
"My name is Himeya. Shin Himeya. Nice to meet you."
"I'm... Alicia. And thank you for helping me earlier."
Before I could say more, the creak of footsteps echoed from the staircase nearby. Someone was descending to the first floor.
Then, a figure appeared at the entrance to the living room—a girl with the same deep green hair as Himeya. Her sleepy eyes blinked slowly before she spoke.
"Good morning..."
Himeya rolled his eyes and replied with a grin, "It's already past noon, Haru-nee."
The girl—his older sister, I guessed—glanced in my direction and tilted her head. "A new friend?"
"Not exactly," Himeya said, scratching his cheek awkwardly. "I found her outside, caught in the middle of the snowstorm."
"Heeeh~" She grinned mischievously. "Little Himeya is already picking up girls, huh?"
"Y-you're so annoying!"
The banter between the two made me let out a small laugh despite myself. The warmth between them was... comforting.
The girl walked over and smiled at me kindly. "Hey there, I'm his older sister. Name's Haruka. Shin Haruka."
I nodded politely. "My name's Alicia."
To my surprise, she switched to English without missing a beat. "Nice to meet you, Alice-chan."
W-Wow... She speaks English too...
With a gentle wave, she turned and headed off into the kitchen, leaving me with Himeya again.
"Hey, um... Himeya," I started, a bit curious, "are you and your family not originally from Japan?"
"Ah—no, we are Japanese," he replied. "But our mother isn't. She's from Canada."
"Canada...? Really? That's the same as me!"
"Wait, really?" His eyes widened a little.
"Yeah. My family came to Japan because of my dad's work."
"Huh... small world."
"By the way, you guys are really good at English. I was so nervous at first, I thought you wouldn't understand me."
"Haha..." He gave a small, unreadable smile. There was something in his expression that I couldn't quite place.
Time passed gently after that.
I spent the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing with Himeya and Haruka. It was cozy, almost like I'd always belonged there.
Before I knew it, the sun had set. Evening came quietly.
"Thank you for taking care of our daughter," my mother said with a deep bow.
"Please, don't mention it," Himeya's mother replied warmly. "My Himeya got a new friend too, you know."
"We'll definitely repay your kindness," my father added sincerely.
"I'm just glad we could meet fellow Canadians here in Japan. It feels like fate, doesn't it?" Himeya's mother said with a smile. "Please come visit us again anytime."
I tugged gently on my father's sleeve. "Dad... I want to come here again."
My father chuckled and nodded, and my mother reached down to softly pat my head.
"Alright, then. See you next time," said my mother gently. "Come along, Alicia."
"See you later, Himeya, Aunt Mariea, and Haru-nee," I said, waving with both hands as I walked toward the door.
"See you again, Alicia," the boy called out.
Shin Himeya...
Even now...
I still remember the warmth of that day,
The kindness,
The laughter,
And the quiet feelings that bloomed inside my heart...