How small the weather can still make me feel; small like I used to feel when my father would swing me up on his shoulders. Small and full of wonder.
I had the kids out this morning while the snow was still just a dancing of dust and the sidewalks looked as if someone had just sprinkled powdered sugar on them. Bundled up in their coats and snow pants and boots, they ran around chasing snowflakes at our local park for a good 45 minutes or so before I brought them back for a hot lunch.
I'm glad now I got them out. The rest of the day proved unbearable. And it's amazing how just a little time out in the fresh air gives them some peace. The both went to sleep without a fight after baths tonight.
I'm watching the snow mount up into great fantastic shapes like white elephants above the cars outside, half stunned at how beautiful it is, and half wondering if we'll lose power tonight - I sure hope not.
A winter storm is a wonder and a worry.
I think about what the morning will be like tomorrow. Checking email to see what the attendance policy will be at work, shoveling out the walk, watching the kids bounce off the walls, listening to see when the sun and the temperatures will begin to clear the roads down to pavement again. Best not to think of it I guess.
And sometimes I can forget tomorrow for a while. I'll look at the weather and try to feel like I'm small again. Like I'm five or eight or eleven and my only thought for the storm was whether there would be enough snow to cancel school and go sledding.