Every Day a Snow Day
Snow days rock.
If I could have one every day, I would.
Unexpected as they are, snow days feel stolen, like time has stopped, giving me time to catch up on the laundry while having a front seat on the creation of a winter wonderland. Snow blankets the dark, covers the earth’s scars, smoothing an ethereal frosting over a messy world.
Last night as we got into bed, I was lamenting the return to duty. Oh, how I would miss the hot cocoa. The snow fort. The sledding. Watching Sasha bound in the snow. The cookie-making. The pink cheeks. The chili in the Crock Pot. The fire in the fireplace. Most of all, my beloved snow walks.
There’s just something so otherworldly about a snow day.
Right in the middle of my pout, it hit: Except for the snow part, there’s not really much that differentiates a snow day from a regular old day except for my attitude about it. Isn’t each day special, stolen, joyous? Or, couldn’t it be if I gave it the attention and love I gave the snow day? What if I woke up and greeted each day with the thrill and wonder I greet a snow day with? What if I was chasing joy, like I do on snow days, pocketing ‘moments’ with more intention than I do on ‘regular’ days? Why do I save cookies and cocoa only for when it snows when we could have them any time we wanted?
So, there’s today’s epiphany: Short of renting a snow maker, make each day a snow day.
Off to fill the Crock Pot…
~xoPosted by wholemama | 0 comments