The house is quiet. So still. The only noise is the humming of the furnace pumping warm air through the chilly house, battling the winter weather.

The snow is fluttering down, getting heavier and heavier. Coating everything. My big knit sweater helps me to see the beauty of it. I hear the occasional crunch of boots on snow from a passerby.

I put the coffee on, plug in the Christmas lights and tuck in under my blanket on the couch.

No sign of the kids. They’re away at a winter wonderland for a few days. I miss my little guy and his crazy bed head and pyjama cuddles.

I should be sleeping, but I’m not. Too much tossing and turning. I’m up before first light trying to be quiet so as not to wake my tired husband.

And yet, the stillness, the soft snow, the twinkling lights, they’re calming to my weary spirit. Peaceful. The way the season should feel.


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