Snow Angel

Fairy lights climbed the walls like ivy, rising and falling in slow flickers. The room was far from dark, and Madison Hayes let the warm lighting comfort her as she stared into it. Outside, snow drifted from an overcast sky. It was 7:00 AM, but the day hadn’t started for her yet. The fan hummed at its lowest speed, circulating warm air. The stillness felt clean. Madison hoped it would last, but knew the pigeons would be around soon to trample all over the moment. Their presence reminded her how fragile peace was, how easily it could be invaded. She preferred the harsh cawing of crows to the pigeons' cooing. It was deeper, louder, and more authoritative.

Peace can be interrupted by things that fly, she thought. Just like love can be interrupted by life itself and everything awful in it. Even love.

Especially love.

She got up and waved a broom like a wand to scatter wings back into the sky. But they always came back. Their return was, in fact, relentless. Maddie wondered if hearts were the same when unwilling to give up.

What if I hadn’t sent him away? Would he have kept coming back, undaunted, like these cooing pests? What if I hadn’t been so persistent myself? The thought lingered, heavy as birds that refused to stay gone.

Her view was a contradiction. She could look out at the water to the right, a sprawling parking lot ahead, or the city’s sketchiness to her left. Somewhere in between the good, the bad, and the ugly, Maddie was unsure of her footing and, in the midst of it, had fallen in love.

He was a Navy man. He flew fighter jets in combat and loved it. Now he was the Chief. In his dazzling uniform, with rows of colours spelling out his rank, Madison was smitten. He couldn’t have looked stronger when she first saw him. He couldn’t have looked sadder, either.

He taught her to run — not away from anything but toward a new goal. He was her inspiration, and long after he was gone, Maddie kept running. He called her “Madison” the way her best friend did, sharply and with a command. The word grabbed her attention in a way that made her smile because it always caught her off guard and left her with an expectation of something good. He wanted all of her time and attention. She would have wanted only his, too, but he came with an ex‑wife, two teenage Navy brats she wanted to know, two wars, and too much damage.

She told him to think hard before going back for another deployment. He wouldn’t be chasing pigeons with a broom, but pigeons and ISIS had something in common. They were tough, damnable flying rats that were hard to get rid of. He loved his job, but it was consuming him. He barely slept. He was always on call. Eventually, he took a leave. Near the end, Maddie told him to go back to his wife. There wasn’t anything she could say that he wouldn’t do. "It’s a good thing I told him what he needed to hear," she later recalled. That included leaving her for the woman who knew how to manage his trauma — and was willing to take it back.

Madison groaned. She was miserable about ending the relationship. They wanted to be each other’s best friends. They fondly agreed that dating was meant for married couples, and both looked forward to a lifetime of playing the field together. Madison could have stared into his green eyes forever. She’d already learned so many fascinating things about this man, and she wanted to hear about how he’d been all over the world. She wanted to know more about his background and his family. He had such a rich heritage. There were still too many pictures of his life that she needed to dissect and talk over together. In Maddie's eyes, he was captivating. He wanted to teach her karate. He was an instructor, and his daughter was enrolled in his classes. "She needs it," he'd told her. Did Maddie? Their dreams had fairy lights strung all over them, too. Why not make martial arts part of their blended family?

He could wear a faded old Drew Carey t-shirt or show up at Maddie's work in his Service Dress White uniform. It didn't matter. He melted hearts and loved to make her happy. He had Madison convinced of the promise of their future, but she couldn't ignore the red flags. The Chief would withdraw unexpectedly, and Madison wouldn't see the same man anymore. It’s not that it frightened her; it’s that his sadness was beginning to rub off on her. The longer they were together, the more often it would happen. Her worry was getting harder to ignore.

Counselling was out of the question; he refused it. It hadn't worked for his marriage, and that was an ongoing battle. His wife had served in the military as well, but she had a way of diminishing him. He'd become accustomed to life on a short leash with her, and Madison wanted a free man. She celebrated almost everything about him, but had enough common sense to know that things didn’t generally improve just because two people tied the knot. She didn’t want to hang herself when he disappeared altogether with a wedding ring on his finger, and sitting right next to her.

Madison turned to her best friend, her family, and the church. They didn't have faith in her Chief. She was met with a few too many uncomfortable silences.

"I love them, but right now, they are NOT my people!" Then she turned to God and stayed there. She sat with an open Bible, feeling a low that only comes around once or twice in a lifetime. The Chief had once said, "Maybe that's why I say 'I hope' a lot." Madison was all but losing hers. As she thought on this, she wondered if he said it because he had to, because if he didn't, he'd lose his mind. Madison felt lost. Period. There were too many thoughts to keep track of, and the weight of heartache was too heavy. She had overheard him say that he'd find his smile every once in a while, and her heart went out to him, but there was barely any of it left anymore.

When the extraordinary happened, and she couldn't explain it, she could only pay close attention. She could only feel the peace and wonder at God's care.

He’s all around me.

His gesture was mysterious and beautiful, and it pulled her heart to want answers that might never come in this lifetime.

It was then that a calming presence filled the room. Madison's attention was drawn to a shelf where she hung her earrings neatly in pairs. She saw what otherwise would've been impossible for her to believe. She watched as the two large gold-plated leaves moved before her eyes. She wore them when summer came to an end. Someone invisible was handling them, gently as with a finger. She could hear the tinkling as they touched each other, and watched as they swung from their hooks and finally settled again. It had to be an angel. There was too much peace all around her.

While she never fully grasped it, she had a sense that it was meant to tell her what she suspected, and dreaded, and had tucked away in her heart. It was most likely what He didn't want to say to her outright, so He'd used one of His messengers. He made crazy sense to her without making any of it at all. God could be whatever Madison needed Him to be, and right now, He was the Movie Maker who understood the stuff that dreams are made of.

It was time to pull out the proverbial broom and shoo the Chief like a pigeon. It hurt, but she needed to get her ducks in a row.

If others didn't notice there was a change in the Chief, they might still poke respectful fun at him, but they never knew what made him lose his smile altogether. If he wouldn’t take any steps forward, what else could Madison do? Staying meant no one coming to help on a dead-end road, but with the stillness she possessed now, she had options. Madison could both send him away and let him go. She had to say farewell if he was ever going to learn how to really fly.

The Chief could be poetic in a practical way. He'd told her he loved big changes in the weather. It made a lasting impression on her. Madison recognized spring, but the Chief saw a long, drawn-out summer coming to life and a winter that doesn't let go.

"Madison!"

She'd been summoned to her balcony. The Lord had something big to show her. Beyond the large hotels, the malls, the fire hall, the houses, and all that could be categorized as city, there stood green trees in the background. Trees that had always been there, and would still be, but that Madison had never noticed. The Chief had said she was an artist, and she could try dipping her paintbrush to put this on canvas.

Before long, she was leaning over, craning her neck to see where it started. Her eyes followed the thick highs and lows of foliage—so green and so tightly crowded—that surrounded her. This was a Garden of Eden, and a Navy Chief was nowhere to be found.

If God had green eyes, she was staring directly into them. How could she have missed this? She could reach out and trace a finger over the tops of thousands of lush trees in full, vibrant bloom. This new view, made with the azure blue of the water, the cerulean sky, and the late August afternoon sun, made this scene a first. While the Chief had told Madison he was developing deep feelings for her, God showed her the height, depth, breadth, and length of His love. The Chief had protected her, but now she saw God close in around her, and she was getting her sea legs. After three years from a fifth‑floor balcony, Madison felt euphoric. How could she ever look back?

Humidity hung in the air like a guest who would not take his coat off the hook and leave. Winter was usually right on time, but would Fall ever let it speak? Madison was being cheated out of all the crispness that October and November were supposed to bring. The leaves still changed their colours, but the gusts of wind were absent. This is what the Chief loved about changing seasons, and Madison wanted it to linger for him. She was comforted that nature was taking its sweet time for his sake, even if it had lost its force.

Cold rains went missing, and the earth sat sullen and unsaturated. Trees stood without leaves, but not because they'd fought the blasts of wind that autumn was supposed to throw at them. They didn't tremble with excitement. They were cheated, too. Summer had had full sway, but now refused to give way to her rightful successor. It was obnoxious of summer to cast so long and far‑reaching a shadow after her sun had already set. Though Madison wanted the seasons to change, she implored God to let it be to the Chief's heart's content, but with one caveat:

"Only let him leave."

The Chief had returned to his wife and was now fighting against ISIS. Madison felt uneasy about the Chief's decision to go to war anyway. She wouldn't be spending the rest of her life with him, but she still hoped he would come home. He did come back, but when it came to taking his own life, he failed. He had tried for too long to cope with his sadness by saying "I hope" a lot, but tears are not meant to be suppressed. The Chief would finally have to learn to let them flow.

It was winter now, and Madison was sensing the same peace pervade her heart as when the angel had visited her.

“You can begin again,” God said. Madison chose to believe. If God wanted anything for her, it was for her to have peace.

There was light this early in the morning, but the snow was falling and giving off its own light. Madison popped a bagel in the toaster and was glad for another storm. No pigeons today, she thought. It was a small victory. The siren of the fire truck was a familiar sound, what with the firehouse across the street. It was far from disruptive.

Probably as much of a comfort to me as it is to whoever called for it, she guessed.

Buses and snowplows on one side and a river on the other. Tranquillity obscured by winter steam fog. Madison enjoyed the imbalance and sat quietly, watching the snow fall. The sky was white, and the crows soared, flying low, flying high, and so black against all the white. One flew past her window—its wingspan elegant—with a long twig in its mouth. The tall trees stood and gathered the flakes in the lace of their branches. They kept the noise of life outside from infiltrating.