We don't really get winter where I am.
We get a few cold days strung together, maybe.
If we're lucky, we might see a big "ice storm" that consists of a few flakes, a thin sheet of ice on the roads and maybe some frosty white roof tops. That happens every 3 or 4 years. Maybe. And when it does the schools close and people stay home from work and the meteorologists come clean out of their skin with excitement.
There's times when I kinda wish it were different.
I wonder what it would be like to send my kids out to play in the snow. I wonder what it would be like to raise kids that even know what to DO in the snow.
Then we spend an afternoon with our pants rolled up, short sleeves and flip flops on. A little boy with a jar full of minnows is running through the grass, butterflies scattering before him, and I catch my breath, grateful for warmth.
Or we're coming home from music lessons, just another day, but the windows are cracked a little, and the radio is on, and they are singing and shedding their shoes and talking about swinging in the backyard while mama makes dinner… maybe playing "night tag".
And I can almost taste blackberries.
I can almost see fireflies.
Right then, I don't wish for anything but what is.
This day. This place.