We slipped out of town after last week's blizzard and cut our trip short to beat the next one. It feels like we fooled Mother Nature, escaping on a covert journey to spend Christmas away and return before she found out. The city is preparing to shut itself in again and as it prepares for 12-18 inches of new snow by morning. Our street has been hiding underneath snow pack and ice for at least a week yet; it is unclear when we might hope to see dry pavement in our neighborhood again.
My favorite part of the trip may have been the three days in the car, believe it or not. My little ones were restrained, entertained and asleep. My husband and I had conversations. Complete conversations. I'm sure they were all the same topics we visit together over and over again, but we always return and check in with each other like submarines sounding their sonar. Where are you right now on this issue? Here are the waters I'm charting. . . . And so we track each others' movements, great and small, and do our best to at least stay in the same sea.
I remembered how much I love to watch nature and think. At home my desk sits next to a window that frames our quiet street. My view of our tree's angular, Scissorhand arms is only softened by an airy white sheer curtain. Even now I gaze more at the flakes landing like a million paratroopers than my computer screen. I've written here before about competing commitments, and the battle that rages most often is between keeping my surroundings clean and serene and taking time to stop and look out the window. To think. To check in with myself. To dream.
The snow-covered plains of Kansas were mystical; I've never seen them thus before. The best part was watching the sun set. The clouds filtered a pale blue light that reflected off the snowy earth like water. Then the sun's warmth would gradually light up the clouds like the pink of a woman's lips, spreading like a kiss through watercolor skies.
I missed my friend Sue when I remembered an exchange I had with Amelia a couple weeks ago. We were reading a book authored by a Sue, and Amelia said, We have a Sue!, just like she would say, We have a Lucy! I agreed with her that yes, we did, and was glad that people I love are known by my daughter like beloved family members.
I gathered my thoughts like a bouquet of buds, and I'm sure I'll be sharing more of them here as they gradually unfold. For now, I'm going to get back to my snow day. I'm tucked in my rocking chair with Lucy and The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, my Christmas gift from my husband. Tonight after the girls are asleep again I think we'll be enjoying a dessert wine and truffles. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.