The snow is falling. The flakes are lazy, swirling us, resting on Sissy's back. We walk along, two boys making tracks, right down the center of the quiet road. Gabe's hair catches the flakes, too, and holds them like gems.
Everything is slow.
Everything is still.
In the white hush, the boys' voices are crisp. They're laughing. They've started a rolling snowball, because the snow is just right for packing, and the two small ones roll and push. Then Zay breaks free, comes from behind, and catches my mittened hand. He's catching flakes, his tongue poking out pink, and he doesn't have to hope too hard because we're in a snow globe now and the white is swirling faster.
There's nowhere to go today. It's just the road and the boys and the time to enjoy.The commitments and rush and practices and appointments and clubs and all the wonderful things have ceased.
We'll stay home.
Today our world is small.
And it fits us just fine.
I'm grateful for a day like today. For a day when there is something wonderful in the simple. When the world goes white and covers us with stillness.
Sissy begins to prance and the boys run and I do, too. Their boots hammer like a herd. A roaring stampede of boys. Sis comes to life in the snow, she's a pup again, claiming the playful she probably never had.
We run until we're panting, the dog, the boys, and me. Then we start back home. But we won't rush.
There's much to love along the way.