Arden held out her hand and waited for a snowflake to land in her palm. “You mean this one is different from every other one out here?”
Lolly stopped and stooped, her knees slowly sinking in the snow until she was at eye level with her young daughter. “Yes! Isn’t that amazing? But what we try to do is to fit in and conform, so we’re like everyone else. We lose all of our unique angles…”
Lolly grabbed her daughter’s hand and held it in the air, snowflakes gathering in Arden’s mitten. “… that make us special, just like these snowflakes. It’s up to us to remember how multifaceted we are and to celebrate all those odd little angles we have which make us who we are.”
Arden smiled and nodded.
“What a dumb snowman!”
The words cracked through the air, breaking the frozen silence and making nearby cardinals take flight. Lolly stood and turned, her arms protectively in front of Arden.
Two boys were standing a few feet away, one dragging a sled and the other a toboggan.
“You boys know better than that,” Lolly said, turning. “Watch your tone.”
Arden remained behind her mother. That’s when the wind-burned faces of these two boys registered in Lolly’s mind: Arden had pointed them out to her once after she got off the bus, saying how they always teased her at school.
“Sorry,” one said without any remorse. “Let’s go, Ted.”
The two boys trudged off into the snow, until they disappeared into the fog.
Arden was still standing behind her mother, when Lolly suddenly dropped like a dead weight onto the ground.
“Snow angels!” she yelled, trying to distract her daughter’s mind from the boys. “Let’s see yours!”
Arden fell into the snow with a soft whoosh, and began sliding her arms and legs through the snow, giggling as the powder flew into the air.
Lolly stood and carefully helped Arden step from the silhouette she had created.
“Two angels,” Arden said. “A big one and a little one.”
“Both unique,” Lolly said, hugging her daughter. “Both perfect, right?”
“Right!”
“Want some hot chocolate? With extra marshmallows?”
“Yeah!” Arden yelled.
The two trekked inside and shed their wet winter gear, pulling on robes and warming themselves in front of the lake stone fireplace with their hot chocolate. They sipped, while the snow still fell heavily, making the windows appear as if they had white curtains hanging outside.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
As the two sipped, they suddenly heard a barrage of rapid shots hit the cabin, as if a hunter had missed his target and sent errant buckshot flying.
Lolly and Arden ran to the window and looked out. Two figures in hooded coats were trying to run, but the depth of the snow and the drag from their sled and toboggan held them back.
“Stop! Stop! Right now!” Lolly yelled as she threw open the door to the screened porch, her shouts making snow slide from the roof.
Lolly quickly yanked on her mukluks, coat, and gloves and sprinted off the porch. “I mean it,” she yelled. “I see you. Come back here!”
As she heard the boys’ laughter echo across the lake, Lolly turned to see that the snow woman she and Arden had just built was on its side, as if it had gotten tired and wanted to lie down for a long winter’s nap. Its head had rolled off to one side, its hat had already blown against the house in the wind, and its face was now expressionless and blank, the carrot and buttons now deep in the drift.
Arden stood as frozen as the snow woman on the screened porch. She watched her mother turn her face toward the heavens—snowflakes gathering on her youthful face—and then suddenly take off in a flash, her anger seeming to make her fly across the top of the snow.
As if on cue, the sun peaked out through the thick layers of lake-effect clouds that rolled by in the sky, illuminating Lolly as she bent down, hurriedly made a snowball as hard as a baseball, and whipped it at the two boys, where it smashed against the back of one’s coat, shattering on impact.
“What the…?!” the boy yelled.
The two bullies turned, their faces growing even redder, their surprise turning into anger. “You shouldn’t have done that, lady!”
“You shouldn’t have ruined our snow woman!”
“Snow woman?” they mocked. “Ha! She didn’t really stand up for herself!”
The boys quickly began to make snowballs, and Lolly now stood as helpless as their snow woman had been. They picked up snowballs in each hand, and Lolly turned to brace herself for the attack.
Whap! Whap! Whap!
I don’t feel anything, Lolly thought. Am I too cold to feel the sting?
Whap! Whap! Whap!
That’s when Lolly turned, and her mouth fell open. Arden was standing—back straight, chest puffed—a series of snowballs stacked in front of her, like cannonballs on a battleship. She was firing them rapidly and accurately, each snowball making direct contact to the boys’ chests and, now, backs.
“Never touch my snow woman again!” Arden yelled. “And don’t you dare ever hurt my mother!”
The boys dropped their snowballs and took off running.