Best Friends

Their giggles were infectious; Betty Rubble and Wilma Flintsone like. Looking up at the sky, the warmth of the sun on their faces, yet the air is crisp from the winter breeze tickling their noses and making them slightly runny; their cheeks are flushed and rosy.

Flapping their arms and legs as they lay; imprinting the snow with angels, their hands touch; they hold them, turn to each other and smile, looking at their weathered, mature faces. One says, “never too old.” The other says, “my ass is getting wet.” The giggles return as they sit up from the snow, each making a slight groan due to lower back pain.

“Worth it,” one says and the other nods in acknowledgment. Each of them struggle to get up, but they still manage; the odd groan here or there to add to the effect.

Dusting excess snow from their backsides, arms and legs, they review their snowy creations. Two angels, side by side, joined together at the hands.

“They need a halo,” one says. The other nods and replies, “mine would be slightly bent,” as she puts her arm around her friend.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Are there marshmallows? You know I don’t do hot chocolate without them.”

“There’s marshmallows.”

A nod in response, “ok then.”

Arm in arm, they turn and start walking back to the cabin; the crunching sound of the snow underneath their feet is all that can be heard, that is until a joke is whispered and the giggles erupt.