It’s March, but spring has not quite sprung in our corner of the world. This past weekend, even in the glorious sunshine, it still very much felt like winter.
With my cousin’s family here for a visit, it meant spending time with her daughters… three of my favourite young girls/teenagers.
It’s always a welcome change to have some additional femininity in the house – says this mother of three wonderful sons – and I can recall so vividly when mine were the same age. Yet it can also feel a long while ago. Without question, it’s always refreshing to again be surrounded by young conversation; by their ideas and dreams, the opportunity take the time to just play.
Wonderfully Matt, our middle son, is also here for a week-and-some visit, and so with a beautiful blue-bird sky, we all bundled up and went outside for a playdate in the snow. A veritable toboggan run has formed at the end of our street, really just a mound of snow cleared from the road, but nonetheless, it became our small playground.
We slid and skidded as we zoomed down the small run, each trying to outdo the last sledder’s distance. Laughter rang through the cold as the kids played and we adults rekindled the childlike exuberance of playing in the snow, of simple times.
My boys always relished the chance to be outside in the white stuff. When they were the same age as these girls, we were living in the searing heat of the Middle East – seven years there, then six in Houston. My three were thrilled for any chance to be in a winter climate and despite growing up in hot countries they all became hockey players, snowboarders, and there was always that yearly New Year’s game of snow football!
But for us this past weekend, it was more about some basic sledding. Then it was time for the short walk to ‘the bench’. Years ago, a simple bench was placed in memorial on the bluff of a ridge not far from our home and winter or summer, its quiet position and stunning view is a beloved spot in the neighbourhood. For any of our visitors, a walk to the bench and a photo is a must.
But getting there? In the spirt of the day, for just a short time, I was the one being pulled through the woods.
“Jump on Mom,” Matt offered with a glint of mischief in his eyes. And with that, it was his grit propelling me through the deep, fluffy snow. It wasn’t lost on me that the tables had turned and as we moved along, the years of his childhood played back through my mind… a beautiful, poignant story and dare I say it here first? The thought of hopefully one day having grandchildren seemed like the natural, next chapter to be written.
With the trees not quite as snow-laden as a few weeks ago and the birds happily singing amongst them, surely there was indeed a whiff of spring in the air? With the exuberance of youth around me and ever thankful for the passage of the years, time with family in the magic of winter was just that… magical and a reminder for much #gratitude.