After living in Iowa for 11 years, one would think that I would be less impressed by the snow. Actually, it's quite the opposite for me. I remain captivated from the time I see that first flake dancing in the air until the last flake hits the soft, glittery, ground. My heart races a little faster and I can feel the corners of my mouth begin to turn upward. There is a warmness that envelops me and a joy that could rival that of any child on Christmas day!
My children love the snow, too (although, they probably love it less since they are the ones who have to go out and shovel:). My youngest daughter, however, is my Snow Angel (she even has a shirt to prove it:). She absolutely adores the snow. She loves it like I do. Maybe more. When she was little, maybe around 2 or 3 years old, I would always tell her when we were supposed to get snow during the night so she would look forward to getting up in the morning.
Bright and early the next morning, without fail, I would awaken to the most beautiful sound. My baby would run into my room and exclaim "Nooooo, Mommy! It's Nooooowing!". Her eyes would twinkle with excitement and you could tell she was planning her day in her mind. She would barely be finished with breakfast before she would be putting on her snow gear so she could run outside and make snow angels. Eventually, we would have to make her come in. Her little hands and face would be bright red and sooo cold. Yet, she would fuss every time we even suggested she come in and get warm.
My 'baby', who is now 10 years old, still loves the snow. She still gets as excited as she did when she was a toddler who couldn't pronounce the word. When I came home from work yesterday I could tell she had been outside playing in the winter wonderland and for a brief moment, my mind flashed back to her as a toddler and I just thanked God for my Snow Angel.