It was not the sort of night one would normally choose for a walk. Not that Bob had chosen per se. Bob typically lived a very Bob life. He had none of the flourishes or airs of a Robert and certainly not the carefree existence of a Bobby. Bob was as simple and succinct and matter of fact as his name implied. But this was not a Bob act. Bob was living outside of his name this evening.

He was completely lost even as he was walking through the familiar fields he had wandered his whole life. To be clear, Bob didn't even realize he was walking anywhere let alone somewhere. He was so deep in the dark folds of his own despair that he was not even aware that he had left the shop without a coat or hat or gloves…as he ventured out into what was being described as a 100 year snow storm by those that describe such things. He hadn't noticed that the 4 feet of weightless snow was now up to his chest as he waded down through the cedars and into Elzinak's pasture. The white fluff swirled around him as he moved effortlessly through it...effortless save for the labor of lifting his feet up and out of the deep ice crust far below. Boots luckily were among the scant items Bob had on his person. But the sunken depressions in the crunchy sub surface were no match for the even deeper depression hollowed into his very soul. Bob was absolutely gutted. Drifting like the snow.

It had all started several days ago.

After a customary morning cup of Folgers instant he was suddenly tripped up and fell headlong into a bottomless pit of anguish. Upon reflection, that coffee, that day, was indeed the best part of waking up. His reflection in the mirror in the middle of his taxidermy shop shattered the calm morning. Staring at himself flanked by his stuffed trophies of fish and fowl and fox and beaver and bear and hare…there….there…was hollow Bob. A man devoid of purpose. Strange feelings for someone who had worked everyday for 30 years without fail. He was lauded by those that laud. The headlines read: "Teen taxidermist takes Turkey to Top Tier!" "Young Michigan Taxidermist has all the Right Stuff!" "Small Town Artist hits the Big Time in NewYork Museums!" "Animatronic Otter Oozes Charm in Disney Movie!

Bob had done it all and more. Reached the pinnacle repeatedly.

But now he was paused, stuck and wondering. Is that it? What was it all for? And what now? When the spotlight shone his way, Bob ducked. Interview requests? He demurred. His work, his life, had never been about accolades. He was a lone craftsman and artist…turning the first moments of an animal afterlife into a perpetual tribute to the majesty of nature. But now Bob himself was frozen in the mirror. He was filled with a profound sense of ennui. And he didn’t go for any of that foreign stuff.

What Now? he repeated out loud. Out in the snow. Out of answers.

He was Bobbing and weaving to nowhere…marching, without a drummer or a plan.

Finally he broke down and looked up raising his arms to the heavens and pleaded…

Give me a sign! Please please! Just give me a sign!

The snow was pelting him in the face…stinging his eyes which were wide open like his mouth…

Bewildered by the vision in the sky

Hurtling, twisting and spinning a dark form was heading down towards him whooshing thru the airborne snow and landing heavily at his feet in a cloud of white.

The quick gasp of air that Bob sucked in, a cold rush of oxygen to the brain snapped him out of his stupor. He slowly leaned over and down trying to make sense of what had just dropped from the sky at his feet.

He blinked. Looking.

A falling star? A fallen Angel?

A midget!*

*In Bob’s defense he was not up on the latest language of the day and didn’t know to describe the lifeless man before him as a “little person.”

And he couldn’t have known what had just happened several hundred yards away on the county road.

Another spiritual epiphany of sorts.

The little person (LP) had just head-longed a stolen snowmobile high speed into a power pole after burying his rental car (oddly a full sized, not compact) into a snowbank and trudging to a nearby sports bar where aforementioned snowmobile was liberated. Upon colliding with power pole LP rebounded and rolled into the middle of the road. Dazed and wobbly LP was suddenly illuminated by a great heavenly light from above. He slowly reached his hand up towards the light surrendering to the approach of the hereafter which was actually the county snowplow barreling down on him. There was an amazing lightness to the scoop and soar that the angled snow blade affected on his little person….becoming one with the snow swirling weightless in the sky.

Patsy Kline was filling Bob’s head and soul…

“I go out walkin' after midnight
Out in the moonlight..."

Bob was holding a leg…dragging LP thru the snow back to the taxidermy shop

The snow melting as it hit his warm face…mixing with tears of joy…

Bob smiled a restrained Bob smile as he and LP and Patsy made their way home shaking his head at the midnight miracle.

What now? He said to himself chuckling. What now indeed…..!