Rosy cheeks and watery eyes,
Hats pulled over heads,
Mittens hugging, scarves falling,
No children still in bed.
This morning I woke before sunrise to the sound of playing children. Curious as to why the little tykes were up so early, I rolled out of bed, pulled the blinds and wiped the steamed window clear of its translucence.
Through the dripping glass, and in the low light, I was surprised to see the grass below our balcony blanketed white. Small bodies in puffed-up coats slipped and stumbled through the powder, buoyant and excited, and heaving sledges with resolve. Breaking from their prudent rolls, it wasn’t long before the parents, too, fell captive to the season; the mums bearing carrots for the snowman’s nose and the dads sliding sledges from years ago.
I was excited; not only for the beauty of the transformed landscape, but for the reminder that, in the midst of the year’s first snowfall, we all become children.