Morning wakes me up, but still. Too quiet. Breathe deep and slow, sinking back into unconsciousness before another day begins. Perfect silence is interrupted by “thud”, and frantic feet flying one direction, then the other on the floor above my head. I now lay worried. It sounds as though Butterfly has slipped out of bed and is needing to get to the bathroom but not managing to get there. Guilty for not rousing myself, but still I pull the quilt tight under my chin and soak in a last chance at rest before the whirlwind of a day begins. Then I realize it’s not one set of feet, but two, wildly flying about – loud happy voices waft through the house. Adored husband rolls toward me, reading my thoughts. “It snowed” he says. “SNOWED?!” I say sitting straight up in bed. Snow!!! Forever 10, nothing makes me happier than for life to come to a screeching halt by ice and snow, kids outdoors most of the day, sliding up and down the hill, happy whoops, back inside for warming up, out again, finding yet another set of dry gloves before more fun is to be had. I don’t get out much, but stay busy wiping up puddles made by little boots and soppy snow pants, making hot drinks and soup, and more puddle management.
Our neighborhood is a bit stodgy. We keep to ourselves mostly. That is, until snow falls. Snow extracts people, transforms them – loud and happy, until the temperature rises, steals away the white, and once again the neighbors disappear to busy and alone. But while the snow is here, it tugs at us until we are milling about and everywhere. People with sleds, snow boards, skis found buried in far reaches of attics and closets. Crunching across snow, through drifts, up icy patches. Hearty fires, S’mores, kids old and young flying past each other down, down – screams. A quick roll to avoid the corner of a house, fence line, or human. Loud grunting exertion righting ones self once again to march up steep and ice – for another chance at hurling downward.
Life is that way. So backwards. So upside down. Like the way it takes cold to make us warm. Sometimes takes hard times to make us soft, pain to make us strong. Comfort can isolate. I hear ten year old All Mr.Business’ heavy boots at the door. Sparkling hazel eyes show me the glories of wounds incurred on the snow hill. Raw ice burns on side of chin from a wild crash with another body hurling downward. It burns and he’s proud and he’s off for more. And it starts to snow once again as darkness moves in. The rare sounds of happy fun continue late into the night in a cold we are all so in need of.