A Plea to Old Man Winter

Dear Old Man Winter,

What gives? We haven’t had enough snow to play in and it’s nearly February. Right now, it’s currently sleet-ice-raining. In case you didn’t notice, sleet-ice-rain is not snow. It’s crap. Ice is crap, Old Man Winter. Crap. With a capital C.

In November, I made the hair band reference joke, that “nothing lasts forever, even cold November Rain.” But you know what? It has! I understand you’re not in charge of November or even the beginning half of December; that’s the Funky Fall Fairy or whatever. But I thought for sure when we were denied a White Christmas that the snowflakes would soon fly and cover the yard in a spectacular blanket of white.

But no.

We’ve had some snowflakes. Here. And there. But they weren’t even enough to cover the grass (that seems to be growing, what with the 60 degree days in January and all). To top it off, quite literally, you topped off our last snow with a glaze of ice so thick that we couldn’t even park in our own driveway. Not cool. Not cool at all.

All of this would be mostly tolerable, but I kind of made one of those parental slip ups that looms over my head darker than the gray, snowless January clouds. It happened just the other day. LittleBrother was lamenting the fact that we had no snow to play in… yet again. He was getting kind of four-year-old angsty, and I let the words fly before I considered their weight.

“It will snow enough for us to play in this winter, LittleBrother. I promise.”

As soon as I said the words “I promise,” I knew I had gone wrong. I can’t promise anything about weather. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past you, Old Man Winter, to just give us a dusting of snow between now and spring to prove your point. Plus, both the boys and I got new snow boots for Christmas. It’s almost destined not to snow, isn’t it?

And so, I promised my youngest son that it would snow. I promised. And I’ve tried to teach my sons that we keep promises in our family, that our words hold a lot of weight and that we should keep true to our word. But, in my defense, I had only had a half a cup of coffee and was on question number 412 before 9:00 in the morning. Surely you can cut me a little slack?

I don’t need a lot of snow, but I won’t complain if there’s a boatload either. I just want to hear my sons giggle and laugh in the snow. I want to build an angry snowman with them again. I want to look at the joy on their faces, to see the magic in their eyes.

I just want to keep my promise.

So, could you pretty please see what you can do? I’ve defended you for years, and I maintain that winter is my favorite season. Surely you could give back a little. Pretty please, with snowflakes on top?

If not for me…

January Fun

…for him.

Sincerely With heartfelt love of winter,
FireMom

 

Land Of Nod: Design for Kids and People That Used to be Kids

January When It Comes

No one calls me Sweet Pea anymore.

Or Wren.

No one sings next to me in church with a deep bass, a bit off the rhythm but with the most joy anyone could muster.

No one calls and asks to speak to Centerfold.

As we move toward buying a new house, I know he won’t be there to help us paint — with a smile. Who paints with a smile anyway? Just him.

My sons no longer have a great-grandpa who gets down on the floor — on his belly — and plays trains. Or cars. Or just hangs out. My kids were so, so blessed.

And yet…

and yet

While the phone doesn’t ring and I am not greeted by his deep voice… and there are no bone-crushing bear hugs… and I simply miss his face, his voice, his presence

He will always be with me, with us.

Two years may have passed. Two years without my beloved Papau. But he is still present in our memories, in our stories, in our hearts. In the lives we continue to live.

His legacy lives on through these two little guys.

Sleeping Forever

Natural Light

“They will fly me, like an angel,
To a place where I can rest.”

Missing you tonight… and always.