As I sat underneath the electric blanket this morning, Rich snoring softly by my side, I stared as a single snowflake drifted down from the sky past the window and disappeared into the grass...
Soon my yard will be covered in the beautiful grave blanket of winter. A beautiful shade of temporary death, but death nonetheless...
I turned the blanket up one more notch and pulled it tighter around my shoulders. I try to imagine what the butterfly bush looked like in the height of summer, with its conflicting purple and white flowers. The climbing, rambling, blood-red rose sneaking its way through its neighboring ferns.
The grave blanket of snow will be beautiful. Much like most of us imagine it will be at the end when we go to our own grave. Surrounded by friends and loved ones. Perhaps going in our sleep, painlessly, next to our spouse's gentle breathing as it soothes us from this earthly life. Maybe it will happen on that one adventure, the adventure we had waited our whole lives to undertake, and we will go doing something we love, high on life while death embraces us from the reality of earth...
As the first rays of light peak through the bare branches of the apple tree, I see a few chickadees flitting about, nipping at the last vestiges of rotted apples. Hawthorne leaps onto the bed and buries himself underneath the blanket with me while Mary contents herself with using her tail as a drumstick on the foot board. Rich rolls over, hair mussed, eyes sleepy and tired but happy, and smiles up at me.
"Good morning, baby."
"It is, isn't it?"
I kick Hawthorne back to the floor and lay back down for a few more minutes, arms around the one I love, and we stare together between the curtains as the frost begins to reflect back the suns beams.
"I have to get up to check the coal stove," Rich says, beginning to pull away.
"Wait," I said, pulling him tighter. "Just... wait. A few more minutes. Life can wait a few more minutes."
He lays back down and we just lie there, content with the sounds of our breathing, and the view of the morning sun through the branches gradually brightening the room...
Waiting for the snow. And loving every minute of it.
5 comments:
hello jason! after reading this it makes me want winter to come full force and make all kinds of afghans, bread and soups and stews all winter! but come about march thats it. i am tired of winter. :) the grave blanket remark had a little true blood type feel to it. :) one more thing i want to add is that snowflake picture was the same snowflake that landed here not to long ago!! :) :) see they really all do look alike. got to go. love and prayers
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hey ja
just wanted to say that you so eloquently said the same thing that I want to say. Winter is only nice when there is a fresh blanket of snow to go with the 0 degree temps. What brings so much pleasure to me is the fact that when there is snow, there's snowmen. Now, that's winter!
THAT IS THE SWEETEST POST YOU EVER WROTE! (And yes, I "yelled" that.) Very nice. It made me smile so much! Thanks for sharing such an intimate sliver of your life.
I was beat to it: very sweet and touching. All you need is love :)
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