The rain has turned to snow out side; falling fast and wet. I put my daughter to bed tonight and opened the curtains to let in the street lamp light so she could watch the snow fall. It’s so peaceful, the snow. I pretend we are in a car that lost its way in a blizzard. People lose their way in blizzards on the back roads of Barnes Corners every winter. Sometimes the cars sit there, buried in that frozen tundra, until the spring thaw uncovers them. In my imagination the car slides off the road on a patch of black ice into a ravine. The tracks quickly covered by the fast falling snow, the car quiet in the dark, resting between pines. The snow buries the car softly, weightless, if it muffles the howling wind and there is silence. I hold my daughter tight and face what scares me most, the silence, wounded by the silence. I listen to her breath. I embrace the silence. When they find us in the spring we have been reborn into strange new creatures. We are different now. Nothing scares us now. We come back from the dead to tell the whole world our secret. We are each others arms and spine. We hold each others hands. To leave each other would be agony. There is no reason to leave, there is nothing out there that must be found anymore. Everything has been unearthed, discovered, known. We smile knowingly at each other…. others marvel at us. It can not be believed. They ask, “What happened up there on that Plateau? How did you survive? Do you speak English?” But we don’t need to speak anymore. We don’t say a word. Maybe we are dead, or ghosts. I have the beginning and the end of my story, but I don’t know what happens in the woods, covered with snow. I don’t know how the transfiguration happened. I ask lost boy if he can tell me, I close my eyes to see him. ( My daughter is sleeping now, next to me, I can hear her shallow breathing. My husband snores next to her). Lost boy sits under a silver birch, snow gently falling on his face and shoulders. His chin rests on his chest. The snow sparkles like diamonds and covers his skin. He sacrifices his body to the frozen tomb that covers his body. It is so peaceful. He never speaks. He never fights. He is a statue. He does not tell me what happens between winter and spring. And for 23 years, spring has never come.