Snow Angel

The winter was such a wondrous time. Children played happily in the snow with snow ball fights, igloos, and snowmen. There was always one place though that I enjoyed going. There was this lake, it froze over and there would always be this single, beautiful ice skater. She was brilliant.

She would dance along the ice for hours trying different styles. I would just sit along the side on one of the snow covered benches and watch. She never seemed to mind.

One year though, she never came. The lake froze over time and time again, but still she never showed. I sat there waiting to see if she would come, but she never did. I would sit there and imagine her skating. I wish that I had gotten her name.

She had a wonderful gift, her flawless actions, and so few mistakes. She tried so hard. I admired her. She was my inspiration, even now. All these years later I live in the same house, own the same art shop. I still paint of a single character, today, this painting is of her.

You know, I still go down to that lake and imagine her there, her elegance, her dancing, like a perfect dancer. I wonder if she’ll ever come back. I have high doubts of that, but the memories I will never forget. Her brilliance and inspiration, I will never let those memories fade away. I hope that she made it far in the world.

I placed down the paint brush and looked at the painting I had finally finished. After all this time it was done. It was my greatest work, it was of her. This painting though did not hold the same magic that she herself had. The magic surrounding the memory was still so clear. I could not bring that magic out in any of my works though.

The frown crossed my features. I had tried many times and painted many pictures but no matter what, I could not bring out the magic I remembered. I painted and painted all beautiful works. People had told me many times before of the magic they felt in my art. I could feel magic in the works too, but it is not the magic that the memories held. It was not the magic I was looking to create.

In disapproval I left the room to wash my hands. It was almost time for lunch. I remember, after lunch on those snowy days I would go and watch her. If only it was snowing, it would have been a perfect replay of the memory. It was fall though. Winter would soon be following and the ground would soon be covered in the white beauty. I could already imagine the wondrous snow falling, the children’s screams and laugher as they played, the schools being delayed.

Often in the shop children would run past the door, so happy they were, the magic children held, their innocence was amazing. I loved to watch them play in the snow. Maybe one day I would have a child and family. In my years I had painted pictures of many families, scenes, and children. All of them were beautiful pieces of work, all holding their own magic around them.

None of them held it like she did though. No one in the world gave me the inspiration she had. Nothing was as perfect or as elegant as she had been. Her magic was everything I had searched more; her magic was everything I needed. She helped me open this shop. She gave me the hope that I could create something that people would love.

I do not make much money, no, but I bring a smile to people’s faces with my arm. I bring a smile to their faces like she brought one to mine.

In my mind something clicked, I knew now what I believed the picture lacked. Walking back into the room I picked up the painting and looked it over, smiled and placed it down again. Something made me pick up the white brush and paint and I added pure white wings to her back.

The magic of the painting was not the same as the memory but there was a magic in this picture. It was the magic of an angel that is what I had seen those snowy, winter afternoons. I had seen an angel dancing along the ice, and angel that had given me inspiration and hope to open this shop.

I closed the paint and let the picture dry. This picture would be my most prized painting. I have never done anything better, my greatest work of all, of an angel.