At seven this morning pounding feet woke me, and my little girl’s voice calling for her brother. She sounded so excited, that I sat straight up in bed wide awake. Normally I laze for a good ten minutes before I begin to crack open my eyes.
On my first glimpse out the window on the way down I knew what was causing such enthusiasm. Snow!
The kids have been waiting for this morning! My feet carried me as quick as they could down the steps while I called out the names of my children. I remember this feeling oh so well! The newness of it, the magic of it. And I was oh so grateful to be able to feel it again. My husband came down, and the kids threw themselves on him, full of giggles.
“Can we make snow angels?”
“I want to make a snow man?”
“Can we make snowballs and throw on it your coat?” asked my youngest.
My husband turned to me, and said, “I am not ready for this yet.”
I smiled, thinking about how when he first came to Canada from South Africa he had run barefoot through the streets swirling with white drifts .
While we drove to school, my son was amazed at how the snow melted and slid down the car window. My daughter was amazed at the snow melting and dripping off her boots. At preschool, the little ones could talk about nothing else. I came home, and only when I turned off the car did I notice the way the branches hung, thick with new snow.
I had missed the whole drive home, getting lost in grown-up thoughts (none of which I remember, I might add). Did I need my children to point out the world around me? Did I need them to remind me of the magic in it?
I am reading Hothouse Flowers. A character reminisces about his childhood, and how his father had taught him about the fairies that live in the moss.
As a writer, one of the things I relish is this belief of fairies living in the grass. Of house elves who come and steal all our socks, and eat the last cookie. Or the more mundane, such as love at first sight and soul mates. Chance, fate, destiny. And perhaps most of all, possibility. This can lead one anywhere.
I sat in my car, watching the snow fall, the chickadees playing, and then I came inside and I wrote.