My family is very quiet about holiday presents, but stories... we always give stories. So when a narrator friend of mine, Christa Lewis, asked me to write a story she could narrate as a winter gift to her listeners, I said yes immediately.
What Christa didn't know when she asked me to write a story is that my mind has been swimming in dragon stories. The idea of a snow dragon came pretty quickly, but I've discovered that I can't move forward writing any story until the main character feels like a real person to me. That's when I thought of my grandparents. I hardly knew either of them, but after they died I went back to the place they were both born-- Vacherie, Louisiana--and instantly felt such a connection to the place that I had to rethink my stance on ancestral memory. My grandfather, Marie Jeffery, spoke only creole and aspired to get his family away from the sugar cane fields. He did. My grandmother, Marie Odette, was strong and willing to do whatever work was required from sewing to hammering railroad ties. The snow dragon idea became a story the moment I realized it was about a Marie from Vacherie.
I have dedicated the story to them, but I hope you find a bit of enjoyment in it as well.