We had our first real dusting of snow on Sunday. My granddaughter was spending the weekend with me. She had come to help Grandma decorate her tiny home for Christmas. On Saturday we put up the new tiny tree, all flocked to look like it had just come out of the snowy woods, and hung small, simple ornaments. On top, my sweet Mrs. Christmas Bear tree topper (did you expect any less from Flower Bear?). Underneath the tree I place some of the smaller pieces from my Christmas village: a gazebo, playground, skating pond, park benches and little people. The Nativity looks out over my Christmas town. Seriously, it was perfect.
On Sunday, after breakfast, I put on my virtual fireplace, complete with soothing, instrumental Christmas music, and took out my crochet projects to work on while Gabby sat with her tablet watching one of her kid shows. It was so peaceful and quiet, and perfect. Then I heard Gabby say, "Grandma! Look!" Outside my window a light snow was falling, just dusting the trees and grass at first, then covering the sidewalks and street with a feathery covering of white. It wasn't windy, or heavy ... it was silent and beautiful.
I clapped my hands and got excited like a 5 year old. "Our first snow! Awesome!" My granddaughter looked at me like she was the adult and I was the child. Perhaps she was right. At the ripe old age of 11-going-on-30, she already thinks about things like how she will get to school tomorrow if it gets worse, where did she put her boots, will her Mom be able to pick her up before the roads get bad, etc., etc., etc. I, on the other hand, felt all of the wonder and gratitude at the silent beauty of snowflakes drifting past my window, no two exactly alike, and how magnificent was that? With the music and the fake fire going on in the background, and my little woodland Christmas village on the table beside me, all we needed was snow to finish my little Norman Rockwell moment. Christmas had come at last to my home, and to my heart, and for those first few moments it was all I could ever want. I felt the love and beauty of the season, the hope and the promise, the joy and the gratitude.
Our first little snow only lasted a short while. By later in the afternoon it had all melted and blown away. Tomorrow we are supposed to have an actual snowfall of a few inches. Like everyone else, I will be scurrying out to pick up a few necessities at the store. Tomorrow when the snow comes down, I will be cozy and snug in my little self-created Christmas world and enjoying the view before it all turns to slush. For that little while, I will be 5 again, pretending it is a snow day from school, and loving every minute.
And so it is.