Originally Posted on the Common Threads Blog,
Centre Daily Times, Dec 6, 2007
Our first snowstorm of 2007, and I gave myself a few extra minutes as I drove to pick up my daughter from school.
I had to drive slower than usual, as I navigated the already parked cars, the ones pulling out, and the others pulling in.
As I stepped out of the car, and crossed the street, I was only vaguely aware of the beauty of the white, snow covered trees, grass and buildings.
I did sense the refreshing cold air, but my adult mind was a little busy figuring out all that I had to do later in the day – the longer times for each errand, as I had to forgo the back roads which would not be ploughed yet, and other logistics.
But slowly, as I waited for school to be over, the whiteness seemed to spread some calm over me.
And then the kids rushed out, or did they just spill out of the school in their enthusiasm?
They seemed happier than usual, or was it my imagination?
My daughter's first question to me of “Can I go sledding today?” was probably being replicated in other parent child reunions, as the kids dreamed up many other possibilities in the magical, cold snow..
They slowed me down, with their happiness…
And got me to notice the beauty, and the magic of the first snowfall.
They got me to be thankful, that the snow was still arriving, fairly on schedule, even with all that global warming.
And left me cognizant of doing my part in ensuring that it would still arrive next year, and the year after, and for many years to come.
I imagine it is the same with adults everywhere - sometimes, we miss the beauty of the first rains, or of a beautiful summer day, as we consider the practical implications of "weather," on our daily routines.
And it often takes kids to show us other possibilities, and awaken deeper feelings of gratitude, and of course, more responsibility to make it all endure.
Centre Daily Times, Dec 6, 2007
Our first snowstorm of 2007, and I gave myself a few extra minutes as I drove to pick up my daughter from school.
I had to drive slower than usual, as I navigated the already parked cars, the ones pulling out, and the others pulling in.
As I stepped out of the car, and crossed the street, I was only vaguely aware of the beauty of the white, snow covered trees, grass and buildings.
I did sense the refreshing cold air, but my adult mind was a little busy figuring out all that I had to do later in the day – the longer times for each errand, as I had to forgo the back roads which would not be ploughed yet, and other logistics.
But slowly, as I waited for school to be over, the whiteness seemed to spread some calm over me.
And then the kids rushed out, or did they just spill out of the school in their enthusiasm?
They seemed happier than usual, or was it my imagination?
My daughter's first question to me of “Can I go sledding today?” was probably being replicated in other parent child reunions, as the kids dreamed up many other possibilities in the magical, cold snow..
They slowed me down, with their happiness…
And got me to notice the beauty, and the magic of the first snowfall.
They got me to be thankful, that the snow was still arriving, fairly on schedule, even with all that global warming.
And left me cognizant of doing my part in ensuring that it would still arrive next year, and the year after, and for many years to come.
I imagine it is the same with adults everywhere - sometimes, we miss the beauty of the first rains, or of a beautiful summer day, as we consider the practical implications of "weather," on our daily routines.
And it often takes kids to show us other possibilities, and awaken deeper feelings of gratitude, and of course, more responsibility to make it all endure.
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