A good snow seems to make everything silent. Left alone in this weather is health to the soul, a time to reflect and take in what you wouldn't stop for the previous day.
It makes you want to be trapped in the enormous snowsuit of your childhood again, when snowmen, big hills, & sleds ruled supreme on days when there was no school--only hot cocoa, cold cheeks, and puddles all over the kitchen floor.
A fresh snow will make older folks flutter with worry, and the younger ones scoff with the invincible attitudes of their peers.
And I am caught up somewhere between all these. The quiet relection mixes with the desire to jump up and down in piles of this cold white stuff, but still nervous that loved ones will discover the one spot on highway 93 that should have been sanded better. However, I am free to be wild in this world of pillows, knowing that today is rare and special and much too quiet.
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