The first time I saw her, she was only a little girl.
I was mesmerized by her appearance.
Her hair was unnaturally light in color. I could almost liken it to my own, which is achromatic.
My breath appeared as a circle of fog on her window. My hands rested against the glass pane as I peered in.
She was playing with another girl, who I assumed was a couple years younger than she was.
The sound of their giggling wafted into my ears. It was like music to me.
It was easy to see how much fun they were having together. It was easy to see the joy illuminating their childlike eyes.
My heart ached to be a part of it.
I watched them until the sun trudged downward, letting the moon resume reign over the Earth.
At that point, two adults came in to tuck the girls into their beds.
I had observed this ritual with other families on countless occasions.
I could only assume that these regal-looking adults were the girls' parents.
The younger girl was tucked in first. Her bed was pink and very girlish. Her two braids spread out from her head and onto a pillow larger than her entire body.
Her mother tenderly kissed her forehead.
The girl was asleep before her parents could reach the opposite side of the room. This was where the other girl's bed was. The covering on her bed was blue, almost the exact shade of her silk nightgown.
Her parents waited until she was situated and comfortable. Then, they each took their turn giving their affectionate goodnight kisses; one on her right cheek and the other on her left.
It was easy to see that the girls were loved.
My heart ached with longing as I watched.
Why did no one love me in this way?
How I wished that someone could love me and how I wished that someone could see me.
The mother went around the room, blowing out each candle until the dimly lit room wasn't lit at all. The glow of the moon cast it's light through the window and onto the floor.
The parents left the room. I heard the door click shut even here from my place at the window.
I should have left then. I normally would have.
But, there was something quite entrancing about the girl with her nearly-colorless hair.
I could not pull myself away
I watched her for quite some time as she lay in bed. The blue blanket covering her little body rose and fell ever so subtly from the rhythm of her breathing.
I must've fallen asleep while still at the window because I stirred awake a short while later. I hadn't heard any sound, but I could feel a disruption in my surroundings.
The girl with the light hair had arisen and was walking toward the window.
Her tresses were slightly tousled and her nightgown was ever so rumpled.
She came and sat upon the cushioned bench so that she might peer out at the night sky beyond.
I let myself turn around so that I might follow her gaze.
The moon was big and round and bright.
It was also silent.
I knew that because I'd tried time and time again to get it to speak to me.
It hadn't said anything for the longest time.
I would always find myself talking to it.
Who else would listen? No one could see me.
The orb of illumination was hanging high in the midnight sky before the both of us.
It was eerily big and wonderfully whole on that particular night.
Looking back toward the little girl in the window, I could see the moon reflecting itself into her big, blue eyes.
"Why did you give me this gift?" Her muffled little voice passed though the glass of the window. She was trying to reach the moon, but I knew her voice would die out long before it could ever reach it.
I could see a familiar expression on her face. It was the expression of someone who wanted answers. It's the same expression I'm sure I had on my own face all those times I'd called upon the moon.
"You won't get an answer." I couldn't help but say.
Her eyes grew very large and very wide.
I'm sure my own eyes grew very large and very wide.
Had she heard me?
"Who's there?" She peered out of the window, searching with desperation to see the form that had spoken.
"Can you hear me?" I asked, doubt seeping into my words.
"Of course." She seemed irritated by this question. Almost as if she assumed I was accusing her of being crazy.
"Well, most people can't."
"Who are you?" She demanded.
I breathed deeply into the glass of the window. This caused a thin layer of fog to appear in that area.
I reached out to the glass and, with my index finger, wrote letters into the fog.
JACK FROST.
It appeared momentarily for the little girl to read before it disappeared altogether.
Her eyes widened more. She then jumped from her seat and drew away as if she had seen a ghost.
"What is it?" I questioned, sincerely concerned. "I don't bite."
"Y-y-you're standing right there." She stuttered, backing away two more steps.
"Yeah, I was standing here the whole time."
"No, you weren't..."
Now it was my turn to back away. Of course, being that I was on the roof, I backed away onto nothing but air.
I stared at her, hovering a few feet away from the window, with eyes that I'm sure were probably just about as wide as hers.
"You... you can... see me?" I gasped.
The girl nodded, solemnly. "Yes."
A moment passed as we both dealt with our shock. When that moment passed, the little girl once again came forward and proceeded to yank the window open.
I tried my best to aid her from out here.
We both tugged as hard as we could to get the window ajar. When at last it was opened, just wide enough for me to come through, a cool breeze whizzed into the bedroom. It swirl around rambunctiously, causing the younger sister to stir in her bed.
I tried to ease the wind's excitement, but I was only good at aggravating it more.
"Come on." The little girl urged, gesturing me to come through the window.
I ducked down, to avoid hitting my head, and squeezed my body through the opening.
Upon entering the bedroom, I stood there and grinned down at the little girl. I was much taller than her.
"What is your name?" I inquired, for I had told her my own name, but I had not yet learned hers.
"Elsa." She replied. "And you're Jack Frost?"
"Yup." I made a goofy face. "The one and only."
"Do you want to play?" She looked up at me, expectantly.
Those words are like music to my soul.
I would love to play.
We started out by playing hide-and-seek.
I stayed at the window seat. Concealing my eyes, I counted to thirty.
I could have given her all the time in the world, but Elsa would never have found a good hiding spot.
At that age, Elsa just didn't know how to hide.
In her defense, there really wasn't many good spots in the bedroom anyway.
When it was her turn to count, I made myself up into a snowman.
I didn't particularly need thirty seconds, but she gave it to me anyway.
I admit, using my powers probably would have been considered cheating, but let's not get into technicalities.
What are the perks of being Jack Frost when you cannot use your abilities whenever you please?
Finally, she called out the number thirty. She spun around only to be met with the face of a happy snowman holding onto it's staff. Unfortunately, it's face had the absence of a carrot. I cannot make carrots, only snowstorms.
She stopped in her tracks. "How did you do that?"
I popped out of the snowman. Ta-da!
Just call me Jack-in-the-snowman.
The snow tumbled out from around me and onto the bedroom floor.
"I'm Jack Frost." I answered, simply.
"But..." She paused. Her eyes were locked onto mine, entirely serious. "You made the snow? You made it?"
"Yes... I'm Jack Frost."
She rolled her eyes, frustrated by my lack of understanding. At that point, I didn't understand why she was so exasperated, but I found out.
"Look." She ordered. She waved her hand in the air.
Just like that, a little snowman materialized next to her.
My breath caught in my throat.
I had never met anyone else like me before.
We spent hours playing in the snow together.
I made something and then she tried to replicate it. She succeeded every time.
She was ecstatic each time she executed her powers in the way she had intended.
I was ecstatic each time she let out that delightful laughter.
Every so often, we would both start laughing too wildly. Her little sister would toss and turn in her bed. Holding our index fingers to our lips, we signaled to each other that we needed to be silent so as not to awaken anyone.
Then, we would resume our fun and do it all over again.
It was one of the best nights of my existence.
When the sun started peaking back up over the mountains, it's radiant light peered through the glass of the window to alert us the coming of morning.
We had played all night long.
Elsa glanced across the bedroom at the horrible mess we'd made.
Her face clearly said, "What am I supposed to do about this."
"Watch this." I nudged her. I swept my hand forward, urging the wind to come sweeping into the room. It acknowledged my order, blowing in with enough force to pick up all of the snow that had built up in the bedroom floor. It swirled around and around, then proceeded back out through the opening from which it came. It took all the snow with it, carrying it back to the North Pole.
The bedroom floor was restored to it's original state, snow-less and dry.
"I should go." I glanced over to the window at the sun, which was climbing back up the mountain.
"Will you come back?" Elsa asked, longingly.
I looked at her and smiled. "Of course."
I pulled my eyes away from her and leapt toward the window. In one swift motion, I ducked back under and flew through thin air, far away from Elsa.