Snow is such a quiet calamity. In the Philippines, weather -- like everything else -- tended toward the dramatic. Typhoons announced themselves with a drumroll, a rhythm that often lulled me to sleep as rain bulleted against the plastic roof of our indoor patio. Not so in Colorado: it is impossible to tell upon awakening what earthly transformation, if any, awaits us outside our door.
Our school district cancelled today’s classes via an email last night, a decision they are probably regretting based on the current snowfall. Still, the few inches we expect are enough to keep our daughters peeking out the window in anticipation. “Do you think we’ll be able to build a snowman?” they keep asking me.
We haven’t yet built a snowman this year. We sold our house before the first snowfall of the season and have spent less time in the snow as a result (no driveway to shovel!), so the activity tops my oldest’s list of things she would like to do before we leave. I’m grateful for this accidental snow day -- for us, an opportunity to pause and treasure the final moments of this season of our lives. Instead of filling today with our tomorrows, I look forward to fuzzy socks, hot chocolate, a flickering fire, sled rides, and, of course, a snowman.
