...snowfall and recall...

I waited for snow this morning.

I stood, hand up against the window, squinting into the darkness and hoping that the faint trace of white I saw on the road was fresh powder.  I held my cell phone in my hand...waiting...willing it to ring..every bit of my attention focused on the hope of a delayed opening.I paused there, at the window, in the dark of early morning, putting off the call of my kitchen and the pressing of coffee and the cooking of breakfast and wished so hard my forehead scrunched up.

But the phone never rang.

Soon enough, I had to admit defeat and move through the motions of our morning routine.  Soon enough, time to go, and the heavens mocked my wishing by sending down one tiny flake at a time as we headed down to the bus-stop.  Even now as I write this, the skies are teasing me...intermittent flakes float and spiral down past the window.

I stepped outside just a few moments ago and felt the bite of flakes on my cheek, that spark of burn from the ice.  I watched as a few tumbled about in the wind, finally settling down amongst the grass.  And I had a moment...one moment of memory...of the first time my son caught a snowflake on his mitten and squealed in delight as he realized its crystalline perfection.

Oh, I miss snow...that snow of his young years.  The snow we caught on our tongues and on our mittens.  The snow that forced us back inside to cuddle up with cocoa and books.

I've no use for the snow today.  No use for the flakes that fall now, too late for delayed openings or early dismissals.  I've no love of the snow that will, inevitably, come and make slop of the sidewalks and roadways.  No love of the snow that I'll spend hours shoveling.  There's no point in that snow.  No eager giggles as boots are laced and mismatched mittens located.  No bursting through the doorway to shake it all off and stand, dripping and exhausted, after playing tag-snowball pelting-sledding-snow angels...

No.

The snow is different now.

Now that  he's a teenager.

The snow is a possibility of another hour's sleep.  It's the chance to get an early start on homework and squeeze in some extra entertainment time.  It's an excuse to get him away from the computer...out into the fresh air...to shovel alongside me.

The flakes fall...the slightest bit heavier now...more substantial.  Each one, falling at an angle, buffeted by the wind.  Each snowflake different than the rest...just as my wishes have become.

I'll wish for snow again.  Snow that covers the world overnight and delays school in the morning.  Snow that lets me tuck the blankets back up under his chin and shush the cat.  Snow that sets his schedule back just far enough for a leisurely breakfast and an extra hug and a startled giggle when the snowflakes nip at our faces as we wait for the bus...

I'll wish for snow that reminds me of those other snows...

I'll wish for snow that wakes up the sleeping boy inside the young man...the snow that makes his mouth twitch up at the corners and his eyes sparkle and a little bit of the old 'him' sneak out to pelt me with snowballs...
                                                                                                                   
                                                                                                                                                         ~Leanna