My husband's car has a warning that pops up when you start it when it's under 35 degrees: "Ice Possible: Drive with Care." Clearly this car wasn't designed by anyone who lives in a clime such as ours, for they would have realized that we know ice very well. And they would also realize the obscenities that people who are shivering in below-zero weather would shout at the message.
I was born in an even colder area and have lived here since I was wee. I should be used to this. A stubbed toe hurts no less every time you do it. No matter how many times I clean the bathroom, I still hate doing it. Some things you can't just "get used to."
Winter is that thing for me.
So when a Saturday in February rolls around with temperatures above freezing, my boys get to hear words they don't hear often when the weather is white and the mercury low: "Let's go outside."
They ran around and climbed and sledded. When I was spotting Moose on a ladder, I tuned to check on Bee. There he was laying down at the top of the slide, surveying all he could see from his vantage point, a slight smile on his face.
"Bee," I called. "Whatcha doing?"
"I just happy," he called back.
And with that, I stopped too. I turned to look at what he was seeing. It's a pretty great vantage since the playground sits in a high spot in our neck of the woods. The sun was shining, just starting to get low in the sky. The air was free of that bite it carries most months between October and March.
Sometimes, you realize your kids are far wiser than you give them credit for. What would it take for me to stop what I was doing, look around and just feel happy? It's hard to do when you have meals to plan, appointments to keep, things to clean. Hard to do, but what's the cost for not doing it? When I stopped with him, I felt my shoulders relax, a filled my lungs deeply, and a smile spread across my face.
When you stop the rush that's ever-present in your and replace it--if even just for a moment--of being present in what's around you, the world can be a really happy place.
