Up early these days. With the dog, the cats. The stars up in black sky.
This morning, I was ready for snow. Crept downstairs so as not to wake my warm, sleeping family, then stopped at our front door. The house across the street. A Christmas tree in the top right window year-round. Our American peace flag flapping in wind. The neighborhood still. And I wanted a foot-deep blanket of white.
If COVID continues, if it ramps up and we’re forced into lockdown, I hope the snow comes and comes and comes, and does not stop until everything is better. I want us to be inside together for so long that we tire of electronics. Go back to books, board games, and baking. I want to have to shovel a path to the truck. To need 4-LO. To travel treacherous roads to stores that are having a hard time staying stocked and that have cut hours of operation.
I want to bring home non-perishables and steaks. Grill in snowfall. Make snowmen. Buy snowshoes and give that a try.
I’m ready for winter. Perpetual Christmas. A Norman Rockwell life. Away from reality. Tucked in sugar plum dreams. Warmed by a crackling fireplace.
It’s nice to be awake like this, again. Especially with fresh thoughts, the pets, the stars, so early in the morning.