I wake up early this morning, 4AM or something like that and look out the window, and sure enough, there it is: snow… snow falling on this city in the South…

I smile.

There is something about snow that makes me feel like a child again.  And I am sure I am not alone in this sensation.

I remember waking up early when I was a little girl peering out my bedroom window and checking if the weather people had been correct – had it really snowed like they said it would?  Growing up on the West Coast, we’d get one, maybe two snowfalls a year.  So any predictions of snow were met with much excitement.  And early in the morning, I had to look carefully to see the evidence, because in that darkness, you could see the snowflakes falling only if you looked at the dim street light…  and I will always remember the glow of that street light, and the snow flakes glimmering beneath it, falling      falling…

falling…

falling almost rhythmically…  and I would smile.

No one else in the house would be awake at this hour but I.  Nose pressed against the cold window sill, peering out into the dark sky, mesmerized by  falling flakes leaving a blanket of white on the ground and that distinct calm silence that seemed to just hang over the entire neighbourhood…

I couldn’t wait for morning.

Schools closed, roads too difficult to manage – the city, for a few hours anyway, would be at a standstill.  And we children would just play!  My sister, brother and I, laughing and playing and slipping and sliding and being oh so silly in the snow.  And then going for long walks through the winter wonderland of the forest near by…  and then just as satisfying as all the outdoor activities, we’d have our  hot drinks, and just watch the snow from the warmth of our living room…

Ah, I miss them.  I miss that time.

And so on this snow day, while my babes are fast asleep and I anticipate the excitement that is going to erupt in our home in just a few hours once my older babe looks out the window, and I know we will have a glorious time together, I am quiet.  While others are rejoicing in cancelled classes, planning out sledding trips with friends and family, or lighting the fire, I am longing for home.   I am longing for the ones I love, for the ones who shared my childhood with me, I am longing to see them and walk through the snow with them, my babes in tow, longing to make snow angels and then maybe, just maybe have a snowball fight or two.

While my most precious little ones are fast asleep, I am remembering being a little one.

And longing for home once again…

Tags: children, home, little ones, snow, West Coast