She watched, transfixed, as the glitter slowly settled, taking care not to breathe for fear of disturbing the pristine beauty. Picking up the snow globe, she placed it on the windowsill, and once again, began watching the glitter as the city inside softly shimmered.

Her mother softly knocked on her daughter’s door before opening it. The first thing she saw was the dresser, with a whole variety of snow globes arranged in a single row. She paused; there was an empty space in the middle of the row—one was missing. Hey eyes swept across the room and it fell upon the small girl slumped under the window, snoring slightly. She smiled. Above the little girl, on the windowsill, stood the snow glove, its city shimmering in the sunlight.

The snow globe was a gift from her father just before he had passed away. It had been on the windowsill of his white ward and he had told her, “Take it. It’s yours now.” And he smiled and took his last breath.

Late that night, before she went to sleep, she placed the snow globe in its original place and whispered softly to it, “Hey daddy. How are you today? The weather in your city is so beautiful. Is that what snow looks like, daddy? I really want to see snow one day. Anyways, goodnight daddy! I love you.” She happily climbed into her bed and snuggled into her bed sheets, falling asleep quickly. And if anyone had looked into her room that night, they would have seen that her snow globe was the only night light she had.