My Masterpiece (WC 514)

My Masterpiece (WC 514)

         An eerie glow crept through the blinds that covered my bedroom window. Its pale blue light caused eerily deep shadows and peaked my curiosity. I tossed back the covers, quietly padded to the window and peaked under the blinds.
         A freshly fallen blanket of snow covered my world, and the man-in-the-moon focused his light on the quiet white that engulfed the world in a gorgeous eeriness that showed itself only after a nighttime snowfall.
         I couldn't resist the urge. I had to go. Was my daughter going to be upset? Of course! She got upset at the silliest things. After all, I'm a grown man and can do what I want.
         Slowly and quietly, but with the urgency of a sneaky kid, I pulled my jeans and cable knit sweater on over my flannel pjs. I eased the bedroom door open and began my tiptoeing trek to the back door. Would the boards in the 100-year-old farmhouse creak and give me away?
         Success! I've reached the mudroom before the backdoor. Only a few more paces until full freedom! I pulled on my snow boots, my parka, knit cap and gloves. I left the door unlocked, but grabbed the keys to ensure I could get back in. The locks and door handle turned easily. I've heard nothing from the rest of the house. My well-oiled hinges ensured the back door would open without a peep.
         The foot or more of snow crunched under my boots as I made my way across the deck and to the snow-covered steps that led to the back yard. Each step I made spoiled Mother Nature's perfect deposit, but I had to complete my task. The urge was just too compelling to ignore.
         I stopped and looked back at the looming farmhouse. This was the place. Directly in the middle of the yard. I turned and faced the house, took one large side step to the right and stood perfectly at attention. I fell backwards into the wonderfully soft, cold blanket. Ready! Commence jumping jacks.
         My arms and legs moved methodically and rhythmically through ten complete iterations of supine maneuvers. Slowly I stood and resumed my position of attention and took a huge side step to the left, putting my foot in one of my previously created prints. My right foot followed.
         I began retracing my steps when a huge spotlight illuminated the grounds destroying the serenity of the moment. My daughter was in the bathroom. She pulled up the shade and glared out the window. Busted!
         She slammed the window open and shouted, "Dad, what are you doing out there in the cold? Are you nuts?"
         With a grandiose wave of my right arm I led her to my snow angel perfectly illuminated by the light from the window. Nothing I had created in the last fifty years had made me as proud as my ephemeral cherub.
         Smiling, I headed back inside for the inevitable speech. Then I would wait on the ensuing snow that would cover my masterpiece and plan my next escape.