Johnny was a 9-year-old boy who lived in a suburban neighbourhood of the coastal city of Dublin. Every year, he wished for a white Christmas, dreaming of snow-covered streets and frosty mornings. But in his town, Christmas was cold—sometimes frosty but hardly ever snowy. Living by the sea, snow was just a dream.

One Christmas holiday, Johnny watched a documentary about the Sámi people of Norway, showing how they carved sleighs from wood. Inspired, Johnny decided he would make his own sleigh in the shed of his family’s back garden. It wasn’t fancy—just two pointed planks with a flat piece of plywood on top and a rope tied to each side. Proud of his creation, he showed it to his older brother, Tom.

“Useless!” Tom scoffed. “What are you going to do with that? We live near the sea, stupid; we never have snow. It’s only good for the fire.”

Tom was right; the snow never fell by the sea, but he also liked stomping on creativity, which riled Johnny a bit. But then again, Johnny didn’t really care much about what Tom thought; he was fascinated by the Sámi’s invention that egged him on to create his own, so he kept his sleigh tucked away, just in case one day he might need it.

On the 5th of January, the day before the return to school from the holidays, something magical happened. As Johnny watched the evening news, they announced that a snowstorm was on the way! Excited, Johnny thought about all the snowmen they could build at school. He quickly laid out his school uniform and went to bed early, dreaming of snowflakes falling.

The next morning, Johnny woke before sunrise. He rushed to the window, pressing his face against the cold glass. To his amazement, the world outside had transformed into a snowy tundra! Two feet of snow had blanketed the town, and it was still falling.

Johnny bolted to his brother’s room, waking Tom up. “Look!” he said to Tom, beaming. “There’s snow! Now who’s stupid!”

And there it was—an entire world covered in white. School was cancelled, the roads were blocked and the city came to a standstill. On the TV news, they reported that the milkmen couldn’t deliver milk. The local dairy was offering three litres of milk to anyone who could come and collect it. They had to get rid of the fresh milk before it went off.

This was Johnny’s moment to prove Tom wrong. He grabbed his sleigh, wrapped up warm and together with his family, they all set off to the dairy—his parents, his three siblings and their beagle, Charlie. They trudged through the thick snow towards the dairy, eager to gather milk for the family.

It was only four kilometres away, but in the snowdrifts and freezing winds, it felt like an endless journey. Johnny pulled his heavy wooden sleigh, the snow biting at his cheeks. “Maybe I should’ve used lighter wood,” he thought, but he pressed on.

At the dairy, they filled the sleigh with milk—18 litres in total! It was heavy, but Johnny was proud. His sleigh, which Tom had called “useless,” had proven its worth.

The family slowly made their way back home, huddling together against the cold. Once inside, they peeled off their snow-soaked clothes and sat by the fire, warm and cosy. Johnny beamed with pride—his sleigh had saved the day.

The rest of the day was a snowy wonderland. They built snowmen, had snowball fights and slid down hills on kitchen trays. It was the best adventure Johnny had ever had.

But two days later, the snow began to melt. The roads cleared, and life returned to normal. Schools reopened, and the milkmen were back on their rounds. But now, there was a new problem: what to do with all the milk?

Johnny’s mum got creative, making rice pudding, semolina pudding, tapioca pudding, custard and every milk-based dessert she could think of. For a whole week, they ate milk-filled puddings, each spoonful reminding them of the snowy adventure and Johnny’s trusty sleigh.

And from that day on, whenever Johnny thought about snow, he’d smile. Because sometimes, dreams do come true—even if they are about a white Christmas in a coastal town.

John Flynn