I whispered to the children, still heavy with sleep, I think you might want to look out the window. Their excitement was contagious; their eyes burst open and smiles exploded across their faces when they saw the snow-covered ground and dusty white treetops.
We rushed to get ready. Even with the added time necessary for bulky winter gear, we were out the door earlier than any other day this year so they could play before school. Snowballs were thrown and snow angels were made. As Jackson opened the car door he said “what amazing luck that it would snow on an early dismissal day!” I smiled at my rosy-cheeked optimist knowing that when I picked them up at one o’clock they would be bundled, ready for snow forts and toboggan rides.
I love winter. I love the holiday season and all the magic that Christmas brings with it. For me, snow, much like the budding flowers of spring, bring with it a sense of cleansing and introspection. It is such a busy time of year, but somehow the blanket of snow and early fall of night allows for a quiet that isn’t always possible other times of the year.
So, tonight after the children go to bed I will take a break from cleaning and decorating to look out my window, cup of tea in hand. I will allow myself to swim in the blissful quiet, shutting out everything but the good that surrounds me every day. As I look out into the darkness, the moon’s glow will remind me of what’s truly important in life, just before the screams of domesticity call me back to the vacuum.