A Summer Snow Angel

"Get the hell out of here! Damn it, Skeeter!" An entire weekend spent clearing out the garage, cleaning and etching the aged, oil dripped concrete, priming, allowing time to dry, and finally painting with the expensive two-part epoxy paint that would "never" pull up under hot automobile tires. I was busting my butt to make my garage's appearance match its organizational efficiency, and it was all ruined by my stupid dog.

I yelled with anger, and frustration! When I did, she jumped. Her feet floundered in every direction on the wet paint. Like some "Scooby-Doo" cartoon dog her paws left a perfect trail of prints leading away from the perfect doggy-shaped "snow angel" she had created perfectly in the middle of my shining, quickly hardening, "never to ruin" garage floor.

Twenty years later I still try to keep the garage neat and organized, but that "snow angel" is the only part of it that is "perfect". The "will last forever" paint around the angel is discolored and chipped. The garage itself is merely a tool cluttered garage.

But Skeeter's caricatured visage in two-part epoxy has doubly outlived not only the painted floor, but also her years on earth. I look at it now and fondly remember. I can see her yet sprawled happily on the cold concrete, safe in her spot tucked away from the heat of the southern, summer sun.

As always, a lump follows my nostalgic smile as I turn the wrench, and whisper a quiet "I miss you, Skeeter-girl" to that summer snow angel.