Snow Angel

	Maggie's hands were so cold that she could
barely feel them.  What little protection her
mittens had afforded had quickly been nulified
by the snow and sleet swirling around her.  Her
feet seemed like leaden bricks - each footstep
more painful, more difficult than the one before.
	
	She didn't know how long she'd been walking
or even how far she had travelled. It seemed like
an eternity since she'd left the car.  Her eyelashes
were frozen, each a miniature icicle, and no matter
how hard she strained her burning eyes, in every
direction, the world remained white.  Silently,
Maggie cursed herself for her foolishness at leaving
the car.  How would anyone find her out here?
	
	She struggled on, the going tougher, her progress slower, until,
tripped by some unseen object, she collapsed into the frozen void.  Even
as the voice in her head shouted to get up, Maggie felt all feeling
draining away and a peaceful, dreamy calmness start to filtrate in.
I'm going to die here, she thought, and no one will find my body 'til
spring.
	
	Consciousness ebbing, Maggie slowly felt a new sensation, that of
warmth and weightlessness.  In her delirium, she thought she heard a gentle
voice whisper in her frozen ear - "not yet, my child, not yet".  Such a
soothing voice as it lulled her off to sleep.
	
	It was the light that finally woke Maggie.  It rasped and intruded,
glaring from the hand of the unseen person bending over her.  She gradually
focused in on the beam and slowly raised her eyes to the kindly face of the
cowl-draped nun in whose hand the flashlight rested.
	
	Maggie struggled to speak, but the words wouldn't formulate.
 Sensing her distress, the Sister gently patted Maggie's hand.
	
	"Don't try to speak, my child.  You've been through an ordeal, and
need to rest. It's very fortunate that you stayed with you car or the
search party would never have found you."
	
	Maggie again tried to speak but the nun hushed her, reminding her
to rest.
	
	As the Sister silently left the room, Maggie felt her eyes drawn to
a picture on the wall opposite her bed.  It was a beautiful print, all white
and gold, depicting an angel holding a small child in its arms.
	
	Maggie found it such an effort to keep her eyes open.  They seemed
so heavy that finally she allowed them to close.  Drifting off, she found
herself filled with such peace, such contentment.  The mystery would wait
for another day.  For now it was enough that she was here and safe.  At the
moment before oblivion claimed her Maggie was convinced that she could hear
a strangely familiar voice whispering in her ear.

			"Sleep well, my child, sleep well."
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