A little snowman makes his way into a little boy’s heart

 

By Daniel Dunne

 

Declan was reminded on his 21st birthday when his mother’s friend Esther showed him something he had long forgotten about, but it ignited in him a beautiful memory of Christmas from when he was five and a half years old. He had not yet started school. Mary his mother delayed sending him for a while as he had asthma, and she was told by the doctor to leave him for another year till he was stronger.
At five years of age, he had a lot of time to himself and being the youngest of four boys, he didn’t fit their world as they were much older, and they didn’t want him tagging along after them.

This didn’t faze him one bit, as he found time to let his imagination flow like a river and he engaged in adventures full of comic book characters. He tried not to let his older siblings see him play alone, talking to himself and chatting to imaginary friends.

Mary was worried that living in this dream world, could affect him and scar him for life.

When speaking to her friend Esther, a local nurse, she reassured her that when he started school and finding friends for the first time, it would all fade away. She declared that with such a vivid imagination he was going to be a clever student at school. She was happy with that until Christmas arrived, and the little snowman entered his world.

It wasn’t a toy, or an imaginary friend plucked out of the world of his own creation. It was a small Christmas card from his godmother, Audrey, in England.
“Look at the lovely card you got from Auntie Audrey,” Mary said, “and look at what she sent you.”

There was an English ten-shilling note enclosed, and it fell out of the card on the floor when he opened it. He picked it up and left it on the table. He was more interested in the picture on the front of the little card.

A little snowman smiled back at him. He was wearing a torn bowler hat with a feather sticking out of it.
His two arms were made of branches arranged in such a way as to show he had hands with fingers.
There were the usual coal button eyes, nose and mouth. A little bunch of straw peeped from inside the hat representing hair.

“He’s lovely Mammy, Auntie Audrey is so kind.”
“And what about all that money she sent you?”
“You can mind that,” he said, handing the ten-shilling note to her.
“Give me the card as well and I’ll hang it up with the other ones over the mantelpiece.”
“Oh no!” he answered, “this is my little snowman, I’m bringing him to my room.”

He brought the card with him and placed it under his pillow.
So began a period of great adventures between Declan and the little snowman.

When his mother checked on him that night, he was fast asleep, and the Christmas card was lying on the pillow beside him.
He spoke to him as if he were a real friend. “You’re my best friend. You’re my little snowman, and I will mind you forever and ever.”
Then, on Christmas Day, the snowman went missing.

Declan was distraught. It didn’t matter what Christmas present he got; the snowman was so important to him. His brothers laughed at him and called him a sissy, thus bringing the wrath of their father down on them.

“Of all days this has to happen, but Christmas, the one day in the year I want a bit of peace and quiet in the house and ye have him whinging like a town bull.”
“We were only joking Dad; we just wanted a bit of fun.”
“Yeah, at my expense and his too. It’s not fair to treat him like that, he’s only a little boy and not big strapping lads like you three. I hope ye didn’t throw that Christmas card in the fire.”
“No, we didn’t Dad!”

“Well, where is it then? They had hidden the card under the mattress and when they retrieved it, Declan took it and placed it under his pillow once again.
He spent the afternoon playing with his box of toy bricks while the older brothers played football in the frosty garden after they had eaten a hearty Christmas dinner.

There was a fire lit in the little grate in the bedroom and Declan was happy with his Christmas presents of the bricks and little tin truck which tipped its load by pressing a little lever in front.

 

Continue reading in this year’s Ireland’s Own Christmas Annual