“Matt.” you said, staring at your little child. He might have been the personification of Canada, but you too were a very strong country, even if you were starting to weaken and fall. As he ignored you, you put a hand on his shoulder and tried again, “Mattie.”
He turned to you, and you looked into those beautiful violet eyes while he grumbled, “Don’t call me that, Mom.”
You smiled down on him, “Why don’t you go play outside?”
“I don’t want to. There’s so much snow; I can barely walk!” Matt told you with a pout.
Shaking your head in false shame you said, “You know, someday there won’t be so much snow. Then you’ll be sorry.” With that you started to walk away, but he caught your sleeve.
“Mommy, where will the snow go?!” he demanded, suddenly reverting to an innocent little child with a deep concern for his way of life.
You looked down on him, thinking about the patterns you had seen in your long lifetime and how the world was slowly warming your tundras. There was also the fact that Matt would have to attend meetings soon, and wouldn’t have much time to play. “It will melt away one day, and it might not come back. We have to enjoy it while we can, and do all that we can to slow it down.” you told him, having never lied to the child and never wanting to.
Eventually you got him to go outside and play. It was essential, for these little snowball fights and interactions with Al would prepare him for the countless wars he would have to participate in.
So you just stood and watched hoping he would be strong enough to deal with it all after you, and the snow too, was gone.
Matt looked out the window at the peculiarly late winter and bizarre weather patterns, feeling in his gut something was wrong.
He had put everything he had into protecting his snow, his lifestyle, but people continued to pollute in places he could do nothing about. You had dissipated long ago, but your message remained.
Putting a hand up to the cold glass he whispered, “I’m trying, Mom.”