afternoon nap. Around five o’clock in the afternoon,
he would wake up, prepare himself a cup of hot milk, and then he would entertain his grandson with one of his stories about
pirates and sailors, princes and princesses, aliens from outer space and giants from unknown lands. Mark loved to listen to
his tales and could never hear enough of them.
The boy opened the refrigerator and peered at the contents inside: a carton of milk, a container of Sunkist orange juice,
a stack of ready-made meals in their silver packaging. Those precooked dishes were his parents’ only diet, but Mark longed
for something different. To tell the truth, every so often even his mother and father seemed to eat them reluctantly, even
though they didn’t want to prepare something else.“Why feed yourself that junk?” asked the same little voice. “It’s much better to munch on a green apple, or on a sweet, juicy
pear, than to stuff yourself with that tasteless garbage.”
Mark put aside his thoughts of food as he reached into the refrigerator; today, it would serve a more important purpose. No,
it wasn’t cold enough. The snowflake might melt. In fact, it was already changing into water right there on his finger. Worried,
he opened the freezer. A large turkey welcomed him. The turkey was probably also precooked, and had a little dish of cranberry
sauce covered in cellophane by its side. His parents were consistent. The enormous beast, the size of a baby dinosaur, occupied
all of the available space except for a tiny corner next to the ice tray. Better than nothing, Mark thought. With extreme
care, he put his snow crystal there and closed the door. “What are you doing?” demanded the little voice. “Have you gone crazy?
Why do you want to keep a snowflake?”
The boy didn’t even bother to respond. In his heart he had already come up with a plan: Hewould give the snowflake to the best person in the world. It would be a magnificent gift—his crystal was the most beautiful
of all, different from all the others. As his teacher once said, there are no two snowflakes exactly alike. And this one was
simply stupendous. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen—ten minutes to four. He would have to find the
best person in the universe before his parents got home. Otherwise, his plan was sure to fail. He could already hear their
comments: “Give a snowflake as a gift? How silly! And to whom?” Furthermore, they surely wouldn’t have let him go out by himself.
He turned his gaze toward the window. It had already stopped snowing, which meant his gift would be even more valuable. No
one else would be able to give or receive one like it.
Mark headed to the front door and slowly opened it. From Grampa Gus’s room came the usual soft snores; the old man didn’t
stir. That’s lucky, thought the boy as he went outside in search of the person who would deserve his treasured gift.
Jack’s
General
Store
W hen Mark entered the store, Jack Skelly was busy stacking a shelf with canned corn. Jack was a robust man with perennially
rosy cheeks and a sprinkling of gray in his hair. Mark liked him. Often he would give Mark licorice sticks, or caramels, or
candied fruit. However, despite the affection Mark felt toward him, he needed to make sure that Mr. Skelly truly deserved
his gift.
“Hello, Mr. Skelly,” Mark greeted him as he neared.
“Oh, hello, Mark,” he replied. “What an unexpected treat! Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“School is out. We’re all on vacation. There are only two days left until Christmas.”
The man shook his head. “Wow, you’re right. Even though I’ve hung ornaments and wreaths in the window, I keep forgetting.”
He placed one more can of Green Giant corn at the very top of the stack, then rubbed his hands together, satisfied. “Well,
Mark, can I do something for you?”
The boy was silent for a moment. He didn’t know what to say. Then
he would wake up, prepare himself a cup of hot milk, and then he would entertain his grandson with one of his stories about
pirates and sailors, princes and princesses, aliens from outer space and giants from unknown lands. Mark loved to listen to
his tales and could never hear enough of them.
The boy opened the refrigerator and peered at the contents inside: a carton of milk, a container of Sunkist orange juice,
a stack of ready-made meals in their silver packaging. Those precooked dishes were his parents’ only diet, but Mark longed
for something different. To tell the truth, every so often even his mother and father seemed to eat them reluctantly, even
though they didn’t want to prepare something else.“Why feed yourself that junk?” asked the same little voice. “It’s much better to munch on a green apple, or on a sweet, juicy
pear, than to stuff yourself with that tasteless garbage.”
Mark put aside his thoughts of food as he reached into the refrigerator; today, it would serve a more important purpose. No,
it wasn’t cold enough. The snowflake might melt. In fact, it was already changing into water right there on his finger. Worried,
he opened the freezer. A large turkey welcomed him. The turkey was probably also precooked, and had a little dish of cranberry
sauce covered in cellophane by its side. His parents were consistent. The enormous beast, the size of a baby dinosaur, occupied
all of the available space except for a tiny corner next to the ice tray. Better than nothing, Mark thought. With extreme
care, he put his snow crystal there and closed the door. “What are you doing?” demanded the little voice. “Have you gone crazy?
Why do you want to keep a snowflake?”
The boy didn’t even bother to respond. In his heart he had already come up with a plan: Hewould give the snowflake to the best person in the world. It would be a magnificent gift—his crystal was the most beautiful
of all, different from all the others. As his teacher once said, there are no two snowflakes exactly alike. And this one was
simply stupendous. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen—ten minutes to four. He would have to find the
best person in the universe before his parents got home. Otherwise, his plan was sure to fail. He could already hear their
comments: “Give a snowflake as a gift? How silly! And to whom?” Furthermore, they surely wouldn’t have let him go out by himself.
He turned his gaze toward the window. It had already stopped snowing, which meant his gift would be even more valuable. No
one else would be able to give or receive one like it.
Mark headed to the front door and slowly opened it. From Grampa Gus’s room came the usual soft snores; the old man didn’t
stir. That’s lucky, thought the boy as he went outside in search of the person who would deserve his treasured gift.
Jack’s
General
Store
W hen Mark entered the store, Jack Skelly was busy stacking a shelf with canned corn. Jack was a robust man with perennially
rosy cheeks and a sprinkling of gray in his hair. Mark liked him. Often he would give Mark licorice sticks, or caramels, or
candied fruit. However, despite the affection Mark felt toward him, he needed to make sure that Mr. Skelly truly deserved
his gift.
“Hello, Mr. Skelly,” Mark greeted him as he neared.
“Oh, hello, Mark,” he replied. “What an unexpected treat! Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“School is out. We’re all on vacation. There are only two days left until Christmas.”
The man shook his head. “Wow, you’re right. Even though I’ve hung ornaments and wreaths in the window, I keep forgetting.”
He placed one more can of Green Giant corn at the very top of the stack, then rubbed his hands together, satisfied. “Well,
Mark, can I do something for you?”
The boy was silent for a moment. He didn’t know what to say. Then
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