We were blessed with a lovely snowfall during the night. It’s magic when the girls wake-up to snow. I love snow days. Should I admit that? Sometimes, I get so sick of the treadmill of life—the rushing to get the girls off to school, the countless errands, homework, and after-school activities. It’s just a nice breather to be able to relax with them in the middle of the week. My oldest daughter, Emma, and I shared an omelet this morning and chatted about how nice it would be to have time to prepare one each morning. It’s always been a goal of mine to make them a from-scratch healthy breakfast every morning. But, like so many of my previously held notions about parenting, the reality is different. I have fallen short. I am lucky to get cereal or frozen waffles into them before they go to school each day.
When they came in from their morning play in the snow, and flung their wet clothing everywhere in my cramped dining room, I was reminded of something I wrote a few years ago. I hesitate to call it a poem. But perhaps with a little work, it could be…It certainly captures one day in our lives.
The Blessings of Winter
Purple snow suits
flung across chairs
to dry; little fingers
and toes, cold and wet,
the snow waddles of a two-year-old
the snow balls of a four-year-old.
A warm place to come to—
that is all I offer and
yet it is enough.