Driving to work, plugging in my ipod, Crowded House comes on. Whenever I fall at your feet. Did I ever tell you that when we considered naming you what we did in fact name you, that we thought it would be fitting that your name would be linked to Crowded House? Your father and I both loved/still do love them. When I hear them now I remember when he and I would make french toast in that tiny little apartment on Murray, when love was new in the kitchen that was as big as a closet. How he would smoke cigarettes and blow smoke out the tiny little window. A towel would be draped over his shoulder and a big red spatula would be in his hand and I would sit on the counter top because there would be no where else to sit and he would sing to me. Who knows where that might lead..
It's snowing. Beautiful wet, heavy, lake snow. The trees along the lake front are majestic, spray-painted white. The cars are driving slowly. It is because the roads are slick but it feels like everyone is relaxed, taking their time today instead of rushing along. My mind wanders. Will you live in the snow? Maybe one day you will live in Tokyo or Chula Vista or somewhere that the big wet flakes won't fall from the sky. If you do, I hope you will remember the beauty of a quiet snowfall. It's peaceful and magical, watching a sky full of snowflakes fall slowly, one unique crystal masterpiece after another.
Sometimes I wake up after not knowing it was going to snow. I open my eyes and adjust because the light is different and linger for a moment in wonderment. Overnight the landscape has changed. It will be different tomorrow and the day after that, the snow never stays the same. I am happy for the chance to stand, even though my feet might be cold on the floorboards, and take it in.
You are a force of nature all your own. Yes, the winds can blow, but they can also calm, soothe, warm, be still.
Out of many that could have been in a sky full of snow, you have landed here, now. With me, with us.
You are my snowflake. I am so grateful.
