Monday, January 15, 2007

On a Lighter Note

I write a lot about the dark and what crawls and lurches within it, but for this post I'm going to stray from that stuff for a moment to talk about something brighter. Indulge me will you?
We got our first real snow last night, and it's still snowing today, in Iowa. I called into work because of how bad it was out there. It's nothing, really compared to the winters I spent in Minnesota and Michigan, but it's bad enough. All you Minnesotans and Michiganites know what I'm talking about. Snow up to your hips and so forth. It can be a pain in the as for most adults who need to commute for work.
But for children, why...for children that much snow means play time. It means sledding, building snowmen/women, snow forts, snowball fights. It means they can finally get out the house and have some fun already. As kids should. My oldest daughter woke up this morning, she's three years old and almost smarter than me I think, cute as hell, looked out her window and cried:

"Daddy is snowing!" (We're working with her to pronounce words better, just in case you thought that was a typo. Is is for it more often than not.)

She got so excited she started putting on her boots and coat before she realized she still had her night gown pajamas on. We remedied that problem, got my youngest daughter up, ate some breakfast, and before you knew it we were all outside tromping and slipping around in the fresh, powdery snow. Too powdery to make a snowman or snowballs, but we had plenty of fun nonetheless. When they laugh and smile it always brightens up what ever moment we share together. Like their mother, they're beautiful. And I adore them all.
So we played in the snow, and for just that moment, I felt like I was seven years old again, having the time of my life as most children can accomplish without much urging at all at or around that age. And as I rolled around with them, pulled them in the sled and laughed, I couldn't help but wonder if they too will remember this? Maybe not so much my youngest, but what about the oldest? Will she remember what fun we had today? Will it be forever etched in her mind? Probably not...but she might. One day when she's all grown up with children of her own, perhaps one day she'll remember today. And maybe, just maybe, a soft smile will spread across her face at the memory. There will be plenty of fun days for us ahead, but today will always be one of my favorites.
Remember your own childhood...and see if one fine memory doesn't make you smile, at least a little.

4 comments:

Susan Miller said...

Maybe, just maybe one day your daughter will write about it, Lucas. Now that makes you smile, doesn't it?

Lucas Pederson said...

Yes, it does Susan, thanks. Now that's something to hope for huh? Thank you.

Christina Rundle said...

That is a very beautiful memory. Something to draw back on later. I hope you were able to get some photos.

Lucas Pederson said...

I didn't get any photos Christina, I wish I would have. I was just having too much fun.