My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie She sang the carol that summoned the snows. And I, poor sap standing in the blizzard, fell madly in love with her. It started after the last storm, and I caught a glimpse of her as she stood on the hill outside of town, crooning to the moon as she always did. Her hair, undone as if from a rope-thick braid, hung in red spirals around her shoulders. She wore her father's cloak: Green, trimmed with silver brighter than the tinsel on my family's Christmas tree. From the side, I could see that her hands were clasped in front of her, her fingers intertwined like basket reeds, as she sang the madrigal that brought the wind and ice to the mountains and valleys. It was because of her that we could retrieve water from the rivers. It was because of her that the seasons passed as they should. And much against my own rational thought, and against my family's wishes, I adored her. They told me that she was not to be trusted, but with each fleeting year and

Sit down, sweetheart. Let's get you comfortable on that couch. There are plenty of purple and blue cushions to rest your tired head on. Would a blanket help, or a foot rest? I can even fix you some tea. Or hot cocoa, if that fits your fancy better. Once you're settled, I have something to talk about. Are you well enough to listen? I know you had a long day, honey, and I don't want to overwhelm you. Now that we're married, though, there's a world of discussion we must embark on, so I hope you're well prepared.