Even before it got dark, the walk home was freezing, making slowed fingers and a slowed pace through the snow. The footsteps across the field of the local middle school indicated the beginning of a solidified short-cut. More than a short cut really, as at the center sat what appeared to be a gaggle of snowmen. At a closer glance, as Liam looked, it was clumps of snow shaped into five people, a baby, and an assortment of animals. Whatever had kept it preserved under the wrath of seventh graders seemed latent in the mangled crouched figure of Mary, who cooed at a white, dented ball of snow tucked into a hollow in her chest to represent her arms. Next to them was Joseph, who really was basically a snowman. He was lanky and had no nose to speak of, but the scarf around his neck really sold his frosty humanity. The wind blew fast and hard, and ushered Liam to continue walking, as his fingers, even in his gloves, ached. Liam, however, just shoved his hands in his pockets. He could taste the fabric cleaner in his scarf, which was tugged over his nose and had a wet patch beginning to freeze from Liam’s exhale. He used his foot to nudge at a blob of compact snow that was assumed to be some sort of barnyard animal, hovering some feet in front of the crudely made snow mother of Christ. Liam bent down and pulled his second scarf, which hung loosely from his neck, off. He crouched and tied it around the snow which was used to represent the body of Jesus, placing it next to the head of the baby Jesus, and settled it back in Mary’s arms. When the cold got too much to stand in his blue jeans, he stood back up.