Snow

The kids began to squeal the instant they saw it.

s. went outside, no shoes no coat and laid right down in it.

For them it is glorious snow.

For me it is dreaded.

The shit drivers, the shoveling, the cold and the wet, and the hated sky trying to crush me from above. I don't like snow.

It is one of the most difficult things in the world for me to accept that my children love it. I want so badly for them to be just like me, not clones, but at least close approximations. So it is strange to know that they are already becoming so different from me. I know that is what is supposed to happen. And I know that it is OK. But it still makes me feel a little sad.

And the snow doesn't help in general.

The way the clouds become iron gray and hover menacingly in reach is to much for me sometimes. I just want to curl up in bed. Hide under the blankets. Read and wait for her to come save me. Because winter is death, and fear for me. To many terrible things have happened in my winters. And I think that may be part of why it is so hard for me to accept my kids love for it.

For them it is magic and Christmas. Lights and family.

For me it is something far to dark and uncomforting.

I need to learn to let them love things that I don't. I need to learn how to let them go before it is time to actually let them go. So that when I get there it isn't such a huge surprise.

I think that is my goal for winter.

To not lose them, but to let them have lives, and love them.

File under Virtue.