I love snow, in an illogical, childish sort of way. I can’t seem to get over it, even if I am 60 years old. When I wake up in the morning, and there is snow all over the ground, I never think things like, “the roads are going to be terrible today” or “I bet that important meeting will be cancelled, and it’s going to be hell to reschedule it.” Nope. I think, “SNOW!!! Wow! Maybe school will be cancelled!” None of this makes any sense. I’m not in school. I have only one child still in the kind of school that gets affected by a snow day. But I feel an excited rush when I start hearing the list of school closings. I always want to be the one who goes into my daughter’s room and announces, “Snow Day!” (I have to say that smart phones have taken away a lot of the fun, since my daughter almost always gets her little instant message from the school or the radio station before I can get to her.)
The other thing I like about snow is that it seems to slow things down, to make you
feel like the day can creep slowly by instead of roaring ahead. It makes me want to curl up on a couch somewhere and read a good book, while sipping hot chocolate. It reminds me that there are things in life that are a whole lot more important than deadlines, emails, and voicemails. It reminds me to look around and see beauty all over the place—since nothing looks ugly when it’s covered in fresh snow.
It’s snowing right now, outside my window.
Life is good!