February 9th, 2011

Tonight is a snow night. This means that we've been given a precious gift for these parts...the gift of quiet, of calm, of not doing anything for the sake of productivity because most businesses and all schools have shut down. People are hiding in their homes under six blessed (bless-ed!) inches of snow and there is no where to go, no one we must see, and nothing we can hope to accomplish out of doors or within any other than our own. We are sleeping, quiet creatures. We are tucked safely inside of our living rooms and bedrooms and we are milling around in our pajamas with hot cups of chocolate or coffee and we are thinking about how blissful it will be to sleep in.

My husband and puppy and I have been watching BBC miniseries and munching on cookies. There was pizza and there are donuts and strong black coffee set out in the kitchen for whenever we awake. There is the soft hum of the floor furnace when it switches on and there is the fragile cracking of the occasional car that ventures down our icy street. And then we fall suddenly back into the quiet.

I just took the puppy on his final trip outside for the evening. The icicles are terrifying but the houses on our street look dressed up for a Christmas ball. The thick snow is so flattering to the roofs and awnings and the porch lights.

We will sleep good tonight. We will remember today with all of its excitement and its fearful commutes and we will smile. Snow days and snow nights are the things you think back on and wish you had appreciated even more.