This evening I was rushing around doing my many preparations for Thanksgiving. I was cranky as I moved through each task, conquering things one by one. My daughter has been quite ill with the latest bug and so was no help, and my youngest was determined to aggravate me as much as possible, complete with locking me out of the house in bare feet.
The sweet potatoes were done, the pie baked, the living room rugs steamed and the laundry pretty much caught up. As I stood in the kitchen chopping things for the stuffing, my personal favorite, I looked out on the deck. There were snowflakes falling quietly in the early darkness of winter. With it came a peace that spread over the house, a feeling that everything would be ok. Things started to fall into place after that and I looked out like a child in wonder at the first snow of the season. I realized what precious time I had as I cooked, talking to my son about this and that, sharing some time together in the warmth of the kitchen.
It’s amazing just when I needed it so badly, that the quiet whispers of the snow found me and with each beautiful snowflake carried all that I needed to hear. I think tonight, when the house is quiet, I might pull a chair out onto the deck and wrapped in warm blankets, sit quietly if just for a moment, under this beautiful sky.