Snow and Ash

"Look, Mommy! Snow!"the little girl squealed as she stared out the window. Her mother, in the kitchen, made no reply.

"Mommy? Mommy, come look!" she continued. "There's snow!" Still no answer. She left the window and went into the kitchen. Her mother was chopping potatoes. Her father sat at the table reading, papers and pens scattered across the table.

"Mommy, can I go play in the snow?" she asked, tugging on her mother's dress.

"No." her mother replied without stopping or looking.

"But Mommy, it-"

"Amy!" her mother said with force, stopping her work. "You cannot go outside. Don't ask again."

"Why?" she asked, trying not to cry. Her mother never raised her voice like that. "It's just snow."

At her statement, her mother looked over to her father. They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Her father gave a small nod and closed his book. Her mother went back to her chopping.

"Amy, come here." her father said. His voice was gentle. Amy walked over to him. He picked her up and placed her on his lap.

Amy sniffled and said, "Why is Mommy so upset? I just wanted to play in the snow."

Her dad looked at her with a sad, tired expression. "I know, sweetie; but that isn't snow. It's ash."