This happened when I was nine years old, but I still remember it as though it happened yesterday. (Please pardon the overused cliché)
It was the middle of January, and we were having the worst snowstorm recorded where I lived. Needless to say, all of the schools in the district were closed. Around noon, I went out to simultaneously to celebrate the rare snow day and revel in the snow with the kids who lived on my block. We all trekked down to the nearby playground; I suppose it was because there was more unsullied snow there. At one point, the group decided to try to build an igloo, but I quickly lost interest as it was not holding together, and I was tired of being bossed around so I separated from the group, to a fresh patch of snow several yards away. I was going to make a snowman.
I had just finished the first ball, and was already bored and thinking about rejoining the group. When I looked at my snowman again, I saw that there was an older boy standing near it with a grin on his face. I noticed that there was something a little strange about him. His clothing seemed old-fashioned and somewhat ragged, but I didn't mention anything. In fact, we never really said a word to each other, but by the end of the afternoon we had finished our snowman. I took off my hat and put it on the snowman's head, and the boy unwound the thick woolen scarf from around his neck to place it around the snowman's. When he finished, he smiled at me, bent to kiss my cheek. I remember that his lips were cold but that didn't seem weird to me at first. After all, we had just spent all afternoon playing in the snow. He gave a little wave and turned around to walk away. One of my friends called my name, and I turned to look they had all given up on their igloo and were heading back home. I followed, and didn't give another thought to the strange boy until later.
Over a hot chocolate, one of my friends commented on how quickly I'd managed to build the snowman. I laughed and told her that it wasn't that hard, I'd had help. A strange uncomfortable silence fell over the group, and one of the other girls said that they hadn't seen me with anyone. I rolled my eyes, figuring they'd formed some sort of collective pact to freak me out or something as a way to get back at me, and let it drop.
The next day, I went back to the park where we'd been playing. Most of the area was covered in footprints and evidence of my friends' attempts at that igloo, but as I approached my snowman, the footprints thinned out. I couldn't believe my eyes: there were no footprints whatsoever there: not mine, and not the boy's. The snowman stood alone, surrounded by white snow, untouched except for the tracks where we'd been building the snowball bases. Weird. I stood there for a moment, looking around in case the boy was standing nearby. No one was around. The snowman still wore my hat. I went over to it and retrieved it. After a moment's thought, I went back and unwrapped the scarf from around the snowman's 'neck' to place it around my own.
I still have that scarf, and to this day I wear it during the winter or whenever I'm feeling lonely.