text: It was a long, cold hike in the snow, but I had finally reached the perfect position on the mountainside. I took the stool, easel, paper, and charcoal from my pack and set up my little portable workshop. Through my gear, I could tell it was freezing. Thankfully, for my comfort and for my work, the air was still this morning. I sketched the outline of the bell tower first - such a quaint vision, a church in the middle of town with a bell rising above all else. It was the first thing to catch my eye in the town below and the perfect centerpiece for my work. I loved creating new art, and was appreciative that I was allowed to do it so consistently. My job was difficult, so it was essential to find joy in small things such as that. Plus, for the same reason it was difficult, I was able to look upon each of my landscapes in a way no other artist had before. Certainly in a way I never had, at least. Not when I really should have done so. That's the thing about hindsight, I suppose. I'd resolved to never make that mistake again, and it gave me a unique view of each new scene. I had to convey information through my work that people would never be able to see for themselves. It was a fantastic responsibility, and I did not take it lightly. Once I had finished with the basic structure of the homes and small shops, I made sure to include the flora around the town so they wouldn't be forgotten. Whether preserved or planted, they existed today because somebody cared, and that deserved to be noticed. As I outlined an evergreen tree on the outskirts of town, I recalled a time celebrating Christmas with my family. We decorated a tree in our backyard as the sun went down. When we were finished, the kids played in the snow as my wife and I sat by the firepit exchanging small gifts for one another. Christmas wasn't 'til morning, but we had a Christmas Eve gift tradition just between us. She got me a pair of silly holiday socks; a simple gift, but the socks she bought me made me smile all through the year, every morning as I got dressed. This time, a snowman, half-melted with its head plopped on the ground beside it as the sun shone above it; not unlike the one my kids were making now, only the head in the snow was newly-crafted and nearly ready to be placed atop its lopsided body. My daughter finished packing the snow together while my son added extra arms to the torso. Those kids were my world. I was lucky enough to realize it in the moment, each time I looked at them. My wife opened her gift and smiled through tears as she realised two things simultaneously: First, it was exactly what she wanted, and second, it was far more expensive than a pair of socks. This was a game we played every year. It was never my intention to show her up as she playfully claimed, and truthfully I never saw it that way; my favorite gift was seeing how happy she could be because of something I had done. Back on the mountain, my heart ached, longing for my family. It had been too long since I could hold them; longer than any person should have to go without such joy, but I was certainly not the only one these days. I was forced to wonder about the families in the town below, constantly making new memories that they didn't yet realize were all-too-fleeting. I checked my watch: Nearly 0300 hours. Not much time left. I was grateful to think these people had at least gotten to enjoy Christmas the day before. Again, small joys. But I had to work quickly, now. I was careful not to miss anything. I added the finishing touches of moonlight glistening on the snow-capped rooftops and the small bit reflecting off the bell in the tower. It was important that I capture every detail. After all, I was memorializing the town. I signaled to the company that I was finished. I gingerly placed the drawing into my folder to keep it safe; it was the most precious thing in the world right now. Until the next one, anyway. I folded my stool and easel, packed them away with my charcoal as the planes began to sound in the distance. I waited in the cold, silent morning watching the town. They deserved that much, though they couldn't possibly realise why. I felt a tear burn my cheek in the winter air and quickly wiped it away. The planes flew overhead. The bombs dropped. And just like that, like so many before, the entire town lived on only in my drawing.