The bridge swept over the thawing river stoically in the cold winter air.  Dark clouds stretched across the sky, pulled by the same wind that dragged the frosted trees.   We stood alone on a mountain path overlooking the bridge, relishing the snow and the break from school it provided.

“It smells like cold,” I said to him.
He paused to ponder that, smiling slightly.  “And what does cold smell like?” he asked.

Then it was my turn to pause.  My six year old self sniffed audibly as I thought.  “It  smells like snow.”
He looked down at me and smiled.  “I guess that makes sense.  Hmm.  You’re shivering.  Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, glad that he couldn’t see my goosebumps.

“Well I’m not.  It’s freezing out here.  Let’s go home, Mom will get worried if we stay out much longer.”  He took my mittened hand in his and guided me up the path, going on about some school stuff that I couldn’t have cared less about. 

“Wait, stop,” he said, once we had gotten to the highest point of the mountain path.  He knelt down in front of me.  “It’s not your fault.  Okay?  Remember that.  It’s not your fault.”

He was confusing me and the intensity in his eyes was just scary.  “What are you talking about, John?” I asked, my voice coming out small.

“It’s not your fault.  Repeat after me, okay?  It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“Good.  Now look down, doesn’t that look like Narnia.  When it’s frozen I mean.  Look.”
“It does look like Narnia!” I said, delighted by the idea and the fact that John seemed to be acting normally again.
“Does, that make you the Evil Queen?” he asked while making a ridiculous evil face.  I looked up at him and smiled.  His nose was red from the cold and he was wearing a ridiculously colored knitted hat that I had bought for him with my own allowance.  “You look kind of like Rudolph” I said giggling.

“I’m offended,” he said and tugged my braid a little to let me know that he was just joking.  “I always thought of all the reindeer I looked most like Comet,” he said while striking a pose.  I shrieked with laughter and he pushed me lightly.  “Or maybe like Dancer,” he said and twirled like a ballerina.  I laughed even harder and pushed him back to try to get his attention.  But he was off balance from all his spinning, and his shoe treads were full of snow and the ground was covered in ice and he slipped.

I saw his face turn from mild surprise to genuine concern as he failed to regain his balance.  And his face turned again, into full fledged terror, when he realized that he was stumbling and sliding towards the edge of the path.  I stood rooted in horror as he fell off the edge of the path and out of my line of sight.  By breath was coming out in ragged clouds and when I heard the thunderous crash of the breaking ice I began to cry.  I inched my way to the edge of the path so that I could see the river below and there was a gaping hole in the ice and no sign of my brother.  “John!” I yelled.  Or tried to, the cold wrapped around me and I couldn’t breath, but God I was trying.  “John!” I yelled, only mildly louder.  “John,” I said, my tears running cold lines down my face.

I woke up panting.  My covers had migrated down to my feet and I was shivering in the empty winter night.  I breathed deeply to try and regain control of my panicked heartbeat.  A cold line ran down my face and I lifted my old and mitten-less hands to wipe away the tears.  I took a deep breath because it was just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.  It was so many years ago, so why did the cold keep bringing him back to haunt me?  “It’s not my fault,” I whispered.  And for the first time, I was beginning to believe it.