Beautiful, Fresh Slate

I wake early. Stand at the window. Pull the soft strings of my robe tight.

There's a covering of snow. Rich and deep and vast and smooth. The world, from my window, seems quiet.

Slow.

Still.

It's a pace I can handle.

Appreciate.

Enjoy.

Branches hold soft layers. Bend low. Sweep the ground.

And Sam stands beside me, his robe tight, too. His arm curves around my middle, and I pull him in. A smile spreads, slow and sweet. Warm and soft as morning sun.

There's clatter behind us. Creeks from the stairs.

Brothers come ready to greet the new day.

There will be mittens and boots. Sleds and scarves. Cocoa and snowmen and cheeks gone red.

But I hold Samuel, for just a moment, while life outside the window is still.

Still as Sam.

Still as me.

Then I breathe deep.

Make ready.

Look behind and glance ahead.

Today is a beautiful, fresh slate.

And I'm blessed to be right here.