The scent of a chimney with a real word burning fire, the blinding white of the fresh snow, the laughter of my children sledding down the same hill I used as a child; this what I call bliss.
“Mommy, come here and look at my snow angel!” “Mom, watch me go down the hill.” “Mom, look we built a snowman!” “Mommy, did you see how far I went?” It’s like music to my ears.
We woke up this morning to the beauty of the heavy snow clinging to the tree branches. The silence of the snow brought a peace to my mind. But the beauty faded when I had to tell my kids they had to go to school. It was the first snow of the year, one that we could play in and I had to take them to school. They made snowballs on the way.
When school let out I picked the kids up and they started making snowmen on the way home. We put on our gloves and left in school clothes for the hills with our sleds in tow. After freezing for 45 minutes we returned home to change have a snack and get on the right snow clothes and we were off again. You see I remember the snow, the freedom, the fun, childhood. I don’t remember every test or even each teacher but I remember the snow. “We will do the homework later right now we will be kids! Get in the van let’s go and play in the snow?” I said to them. They will remember as I do and hopefully give their children the time, space and snow to be just that a child like I was once.
I sat on the hill in the cold warm and cozy inside watching my children play on that same hill…