
I woke at 4:00 AM with a sore throat and an excessively snotty nose. My head and body are aching. I got out of bed, let my train of cats outside, ate oatmeal, took cold medicine and headed back upstairs to bed.
Today will be the perfect day to lay cozy in bed with books and my words and moments of drifting in and out of sleep.
On the landing of the stairs there’s a small window that faces the sky. The sun was starting to rise and I could see the leaves on the trees in the dim shadow of light.
It triggered the memory of our first snow fall experience in Iowa. It was a Saturday morning and my husband woke me up at 7:00 AM. My first words to him were, “Why are you waking me up this early on a Saturday?”
“It’s snowing,” he said. “Come and look with me.”
I went over to the window and lifted the blinds. It was snowing. White flakes were pouring down. I felt excitement from deep withing my tummy and like a child I longed to touch the snow flakes.
“Let’s go play!” I shouted.
We drove my truck down into the town square. The square was empty other than the snow beneath our feet and the silence of it falling from the sky. I’m memorized snow fall is so calm and silent, yet you can still hear it.
I snapped this photograph and admired it’s beauty. As weeks went by the snow fell more and more. One snow fall was four feet and we were stranded at home.
There’s a certain novelty that comes with being snowed in. The world stops while sitting by the fireplace for warmth, reading books, playing games, cooking random and bizarre meals, drinking wine or spiked coffee.
Your only obligation is to wait it out. Never before had I considered the sense of freedom that can come from being trapped. That’s how I feel today. Having a cold has made it so my only obligation is to stay in bed and wait it out while I daydream about snowfall.


