The Biggest Snow Angel

“I need a patch as wide as my biggest stretch,” Sienna said, opening her arms beside the snowy path.

Miles stretched his arms, too. “Then we’ll need a very big patch.”

They stood in the quiet park near home, bundled in coats and scarves. December evening had turned the sky soft purple, and the lamps along the path made warm circles on the snow. The park was still. A few bare branches held little white caps, and the whole world seemed to be speaking in whispers.

Sienna wanted to make the biggest snow angel she could. She pictured wide, sweeping wings and a round head, all pressed into a smooth blanket of snow. Miles had promised to make one beside hers, so they could see whose angel spread farther.

“Let’s look over there,” he said, pointing beside the path.

They walked a few steps and peered at the snow. It was soft on top, but the patch was narrow. One side met the packed walkway. The other came close to the roots of a tall tree, which made little bumps beneath the snow.

Sienna held her arms out again. Her mitten nearly touched the path. “If I lie here, my angel might reach the walkway.”

“And my feet might bump the tree roots,” Miles said. He looked down at the lumpy snow. “That wouldn’t make very smooth wings.”

They tried another little space nearby. It was already crossed by small tracks. Each mark showed clearly in the pale snow, like a tiny line drawn with a pencil.

Sienna looked at the narrow patch, then at the marked one. Her biggest snow angel needed room to stretch. She didn’t want to squash the walkway edge or make bumpy wings, and she wanted a smooth place for the angel’s shape.

Miles brushed a fleck of snow from his sleeve. “Maybe the park has a bigger spot.”

Sienna glanced down the winding path. It curved out of sight behind a row of bushes. Beyond the bend, the lamps shone on a wide, quiet stretch of white.

“Let’s see,” she said. “Carefully.”

Side by side, they set off along the path, leaving the little patch untouched behind them.

The path curved past the bushes, and the wide stretch came into view. It lay beyond the bend like a soft white blanket, smooth from one side to the other. No footprints crossed the middle. Not even a twig had fallen there.

Sienna stopped at the edge. The open space was just right for a very big angel. But the path ran along one side, and a few trees stood near the far edge.

“If we walk straight across, we’ll leave tracks right through the middle,” Miles said.

Sienna studied the snow. Every small mark stood out clearly. She could see where a leaf had touched down and where a tiny track curved near the bushes. She wanted the center to stay smooth until she was ready to make her angel.

“Let’s go around the edge,” she said. “We can keep our boots beside the patch, then choose a clear spot away from the path and the trees.”

Miles smiled. “A careful snow-angel route.”

They followed the outside of the patch, placing their boots on the packed ground beside the path. At the far end, Sienna found a broad, clear place with plenty of room around it. The tree roots were well away, and the walkway was farther still.

“This is it,” she whispered.

She checked the space once more. Then she sat down gently and lowered herself onto her back. The snow cradled her coat. She stretched her arms out and moved them up and down, sweeping through the soft snow. Her legs swished apart and together, making a wide skirt beneath her wings.

“Are you making the biggest angel ever?” Miles asked.

“I’m making the biggest one I can!” Sienna giggled, careful to keep her head still.

When she finished, she rose slowly, stepping away so she wouldn’t smudge the shape. A pale angel rested in the snow, with broad wings and a flaring skirt.

Miles chose a clear spot beside hers. He lowered himself carefully and swept his arms and legs through the snow. His angel came out a little narrower, with wings that seemed to reach for Sienna’s.

They stood at the edge and compared them. Sienna’s wings spread widest. Miles’s angel had the longer skirt.

“Together,” Miles said, “they take up almost the whole sky.”

Sienna looked at the two shapes resting side by side. The smooth snow around them made their outlines shine in the lamplight.

For a little while, Sienna and Miles stayed beside the angels, looking at the shapes they had made. Their wings fanned across the snow. Their skirts spread out like the hems of grand winter gowns.

“Yours is the widest,” Miles said.

“Yours has the longest skirt,” Sienna replied. “Maybe they’re dancing.”

She tipped her head and imagined the angels gliding through a quiet ballroom made of snow. Miles gave a tiny bow to his angel. Sienna bowed to hers, too. Their boots stayed on the edge of the patch, where they would not brush against the smooth shapes.

A soft breeze moved the bare branches overhead. A few flakes drifted down, settling lightly on the angels’ wings. They didn’t hide the shapes. They made the snow sparkle when the park lamps caught them.

“Time to head home,” Miles said.

Sienna nodded. She brushed snow from the front of her coat, and Miles dusted his sleeves. They checked their mittens and scarves, then turned back toward the winding path.

The walk seemed even quieter now. Their footsteps made a gentle crunch on the packed snow. Near the bend, they saw the little tracks again, still clear in the undisturbed patch. Sienna smiled at the tiny marks and kept to the path.

The lamps made a bright trail ahead of them. Their home was close, and soon they would be warm inside, with the evening waiting softly beyond the windows. Miles told Sienna that next time, perhaps their angels could have even longer wings.

“Only if we find a patch with room for them,” she said.

They reached the park entrance and paused before going on. Sienna looked back once. Beneath the quiet winter sky, the two pale angels rested side by side, their wide wings shining softly in the snow.

Then she and Miles walked home together, carrying the picture of them in their minds.