Skip to main content

Merry Christmas to All and To All a Good Night......

 When it snows after dark in a community that doesn't often get snow, kids will go to great extremes to have fun.  As the giant snowflakes fell on Christmas night, my kids raced out into the cold in an effort not to miss a good time.  It's a sure sign they are having way too much fun when your teenage daughter is towed home in her golf cart by "the cute boy" down the street, dragging a tiny wheel and more friends behind her.   

  My kitchen was turned into a staging area for wet boots, dry towels, frozen children and hot chocolate.  The kids beat a path back and forth to the hot tub until about two a.m.  With the steam coming up into the night air and nothing but the kid's heads above water, it looked like they were basking in a big vat of soup.  Leaving them to simmer, I made my way to bed around midnight.  I could still hear the sounds of giggling kids echoing through the house.   

  About 2:30 a.m., my son woke me and said, "You know how you've always told me to wake you if something cool is happening and you don't want to miss it."  While I was referring to events such as  an alien take-over, a re-run of The Walton's Family Christmas special, or some child crafted crisis quickly spinning out of their control, I had no idea what "cool" thing was occurring in the middle of the night and had to get up to see.   With great detail, my son explained how the street lights were reflecting on the snow and everything outside was reflecting light making it appear to be daylight in the middle of the night.  At 2:30 a.m. I donned by still wet snow boots and a jacket and wandered out into the cold with my son expecting to see this great light beaming through the night.

  We walked outside and all appeared normal to me.  My son was in awe of the orange sky and the glistening trees all reflecting light across the neighborhood.  We stood there together in the middle of the night just looking out into the world.  I have seen the snow light up the night many times and it is beautiful.  I suppose my children have not seen this as much as I have and I am glad that they noticed.  As I stood outside with my son under the orange sky, by a steaming hot tub, looking out into the semi-dark street,  I wished that I could take him back to 1972 to the small bedroom window that I once peered out of, to watch in awe how the snowy night glowed and the streets lit up like Christmas. It is a beautiful sight to behold whether you are eight years old with your nose pressed against a window or you are 48 standing there in a robe and snow boots.  I'm glad my son noticed the magic.  I'm even happier that he woke me to join him.   

  So, it was a White Christmas in our southern town and that doesn't occur but about once a century.  We grabbed as much life from it as we could, and sometime before the sun rose, we all collapsed in our beds from our dreams of a white Christmas. 


Anonymous said…
The best memories in life come at moments unexpected. Your son's excitement for nature's snowy artistry in the glow of a neighborhood streetlamp was certainly worth waking for.

Popular posts from this blog

The Mink That Made Its Way Home

             When I was five years old, my grandmother would care for me before school each day.  She would turn the stereo console on and play big band music from the 40's.  I remember dressing up in her mink stole as we danced around the living room spinning and twirling to the classics.  She told me that one day the mink would be mine and I hoped that I would be as beautiful as she was wrapped in luxurious mink.     Time, of course, came and went and my grandmother passed away many years ago.  I have often wondered what happened to her mink stole and wished that I could wear it just one more time.  Little did I know, my grandmother had given the stole to her daughter and sometime during the early 80's when fur was not fashionable and we were wearing hideous things like leather pants and spandex, my aunt tossed the mink into the Goodwill bin near her home. She did not know that anyone actually wanted the mink and donated it to charity.  She told me she remembers lo

Dear Future Me

  Getting emails from old friends is always nice, but what a surprise to find an email that I sent to myself last year, only to be delivered exactly one year later.  It began "Dear Future Me".  This letter from my past to an older version of me had only one line.... "What have you accomplished over the past year?"   I thought this was rather brilliant as it prompted me to reflect on the year and what I had or had not accomplished.  My children were quick to interrupt my quiet reflections and point out that my one sentence email was lame and lacked details.  You can always count on your children for brutal honesty.  They educated me on how I should have talked about what I was doing a year ago and described what that day was like.  So.... with that being said, my children and I crafted our next letter... "Dear Future Us"   The letter began by explaining that it was close to midnight on a school night and my children should be in bed.  Instead, they

Peace, Love and What???

  There is nothing more precious than child innocence.  While it appears that this message may, indeed, be upside down, it seems that an upended pink ribbon is a call for better testing for earlier detection of breast cancer.  Who better to deliver such a message than a group of young girls with bright futures ahead of them?  While my daughter actually has no idea that she is holding the poster upside down, her mistake quietly sends a much more powerful message across this field. Who knows, but any one of these young ladies, excited about their part in participating in a campaign of hope, could go on to be the one to discover just such a test or cure.   So even if the symbols are upside down, or even fall to the ground, our youth are learning to be a part of something bigger than themselves and might just one day deliver this message exactly as they innocently displayed this Fall day in their youth.   Picture by Kathi Kolb