Snow Angel

I published this blog a few years ago...and it still holds true...

It was 1:15 in the afternoon when I stood looking out at my backyard with the clean white snow piled high...it seemed to beckon me. The snow was fresh and brilliant white and the sun was out, which was a pleasant surprise to me. It seems that living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, there doesn't always seem to be a lot of sunlight. No one had played in the yard. The grandchildren were at school. If they had been here and played in the back yard, their footprints were long gone, and hidden by a fresh new coat of snow. There were no animal footprints or paw marks to be seen. The deer hadn't ventured through my yard, and my cat was too afraid to go out in the snow and the cold. She just sat curled up on the couch in the family room.

So, at 1:15 I pulled on my granddaughter's boots because I didn't own a pair of my own. I pulled them up over my warm wool socks, and long black pants. I wish that I had snow pants but I don't own them either. I found my hat, and gloves, and pulled on a heavy vinyl ski jacket. I went out though my sliding glass door from the eating area, and made my own new fresh tracks in the snow as I trudged along the patio to the back yard. I stood for a few seconds, and dropped down on my back in the fresh snow. No one was around. I stayed like this for a long time before I began moving my arms and legs back and forth over the snow. I stopped and looked up at the sky, watching a stray black bird fly by and land on one of the branches of the pine trees. The sky was actually clear and blue with white clouds quickly moving along.

Everything was quiet and serene. I wondered if this is what a child feels like. No, I thought, a child would jump up after making a snow angel, and maybe make more, and then run around the yard, and probably make a snowman. After some time, my bottom felt wet and I could feel the cold spreading along my skin. When I became too cold, I reluctantly got up and signed my snow angel as if it was an artistic masterpiece. I hope my angel remains untouched until my grandchildren come back and they can see what their grandmother created.

I walked back into the house and scooped up snow to pack into a snowball but it was too fresh. I shook it off and went inside the kitchen, where I took off my outer layer of clothes, my hat, boots, and gloves, went upstairs, and stood under a warm shower.

Hours later, after I made my snow angel, I could still feel the coldness still lingering on my bottom but I felt happy and free and thought maybe I'll go out later with my grandchildren and sled down the front hill. All in all it was worth it. It was worth snatching back a good memory of my childhood, when I used to feel free and used to make snow angels.

With all the snow that seems to have hit our area, have you ever thought about what it might feel like to make a snow angel?