This morning–before my eyes open, before the cats clamor and fuss for food, and even before coffee–my daughters bounce and squeal on the bed.
“You won’t believe it! You won’t believe it!” they giggle, urging me out of bed. “It snowed!”
|Snow in January|
They run to the window with eyes big. Their little bare feet jump up and down.
Oh, to be a child again! I envision a day of shoveling snow, negotiating with the ice, and battling the traffic. They envision a day of sledding, snowmen, hot chocolate, and snow angels. Of course you wake up happy when you see the hope and possibility of it.
I sit up in bed, and I suddenly remember this truth: that little child still lives in me and in us all. Today, I’m going to have hot chocolate and make the world’s plumpest and tallest snow angel in my backyard. I’m going to sled down the big hill at the park, and I’ll go faster because of my size. I’ll bring the carrot for the snowman. You bring the hat.
Can you remember it?