Our bedtime stories, and tales on long car rides were always told with different accents for each character. Before we too, could read along, it made understanding the story, and the characters enjoyable and easy. Sometimes, without even reading from a storybook, my father would tell us his own stories.

We learned about the Loch Ness Monster. A fabled creature, much like a dinosaur, that was said to live with in the depths of Lake Ness, in Scotland. And somehow, that story spilled over into our real lives.

One of my fondest memories of my father's special times with my brother and I as youngsters, was when the snow fell. We'd creep out on the deck first, to test the snow. We knew that wetter snow was the best for building, and drier snow was best for sledding. Like every other excited child at the sign of winter, we'd rush to get bundled in our outdoor gear, and head outside to make snowballs and snowmen.

But our snowman wasn't like any other I've ever seen. My father, my brother and I would carefully clear out an area where our creation would stand. The three of us would work hard to pile snow high, and cautiously pack it into one stable being. Once the body was secure, the neck and head could be built. We'd be red-nosed and frozen eared before the job was complete. At the end of the time consuming task, standing before us, larger than my brother and I together - stood our rendition of the Loch Ness Monster! We called her Nessie.

It wasn't just a one-year event either. We took pride, each year, in trying to construct a bigger and better Nessie.

Eventually though, the awkward years set in. By that, I mean the years when it isn't cool to hang out with your parents anymore. The years when you're old enough to meet your friends down the road, but still young enough to want to go sledding all Christmas vacation. And with those awkward years, Nessie vanished with the coming of spring.

It's been years since Nessie dwelled in New Hampshire. I moved out when I was eighteen, and I've been out for three years. Sometimes I think about how much I hope to live in a country town like the one I grew up in, so that someday I'll recreate Nessie with my own children.

I don't have children now, but I do have 'psuedo-children' that I see on a daily basis. The little kids in this inner city neighborhood that roam the roads alone. The ones that make my day when they bring home an art project from school -- just for me. There isn't much room for them to play around here, so most of the time, I see them hanging around on the roads with other little ones. For most of them, I've never seen their parents. I realize how lucky I am to have a family that so loves and supports me, and how lucky I was to have it in those crucial developmental years.

When the snow falls, in this neighborhood, the kids all gather in the parking lot on the corner after the snowplow has come. The offices are closed on weekends, so the huge heaps of snow that fence the lot are perfect for sledding, fortresses, and snowball fights. There is always one spot in the middle of the lot that has a smaller mound of snow, about four feet high. Nobody ever plays on that pile.

One day, I looked out of my window to see an unusually large group of children all tossing snowballs at one little girl. I dashed out of my apartment and over to the lot to break it up. As I drew nearer the commotion, I saw that the girl being pegged was Kaylee, a girl I'd become particularly close to. I ran to her and scooped her in my arms to see her tear streaked face, and shivering jaw. My heart sunk. She didn't even have a coat on. I took my jacket off and zipped her up in the huge wrap. Before I even had a chance to say anything to the other kids, they were all gossiping amongst eachother, questioning if I was her mother. It made me sad to know that even her 'playmates' had never seen her mother. Kaylee answered for them.

I tried to make everyone get along, but the others laughed me off. I asked Kaylee if whe wanted to go home, but she wanted to play instead. So, I walked with her, away from the fence of snow hills and went to the mound in the middle. We sat there for quite some time, making little sled paths to slide down on our bottoms, and creating snow angels. Before too long, the other kids wandered over, almost in line, too see why we were laughing out loud, and having such fun.

Just then, it struck me. I knew how I could entertain these kids, and protect Kaylee from their mean games of snow throw. Nessie.

I began telling the tale of Nessie. I was answered by dropping jaws and wide eyes. They'd giggle as I tried to add humor, and they ask question about her temper.
"Will she eat us?"
"Can she get us?"

I answered each question patiently, and when we'd finished Q&A, we began construction.

Nessie was taking shape again for the first time in nearly fifteen years.

Dad, I thought you'd like to know... Nessie Lives On!