Winter Musing

Winter this year brought snow and ice for my part of the country. It is true that the Deep South rarely sees a snowflake. It is also true that snow in the South means panic. There are hurried shoppers out at the grocery stores. Toilet paper, bread, and milk run out first. Then, the snow comes, and with it, a deep stillness. Black branches with white powdery snow scratch at the windows and the fire in the hearth does its best to keep the cold and dark in the far reaches of our consciousness. I am snuggled on the couch with my son and my husband. It is a rare snow day for the three of us. I take the baby outside for a picture. He is not amused, but my husband finds joy in my son’s expressions. The world stops, for a moment, just for the three of us, as we take in the cold and stillness of the snow. Our breaths flare out in white puffs from our frozen lips, and our laughter does not reach far, being mostly absorbed by the white powder on the lawns, trees, and bushes around us. For a moment, life is perfect and whole. The cold eventually drives us back inside, but the memories created together will last for my lifetime, recorded in detail in my journals and picture albums, baby books filled with the joys we experience together as a family.