Thumb-sized snowflakes besiege us, flying from left to right across my windows, beauty on display. The wind changes, and they fall straight down in eerie silence. "In sequent toil, all forwards do contend," Shakespeare would intone from Sonnet 60.
"Put on some nature music, will you, Mom?" she asks, the gangly willowy daughter who has now surpassed me in height. Pink sequin earrings bob near a glistening Hershey-colored ponytail. She slides hair behind ear unconsciously, and hunches over her drawings.
Quiet music throbs, and I can feel my body slowing. Snow falls ceaselessly, hypnotically; the flakes tumbling past my windows. Pencil artist pauses to watch. Four year old Daniel stops his Lego play to stare at the sky. "Why is it snowing, Mom?"
"Because it's January," I smile back softly. "It's pretty, huh?"
Guitars strum, snow falls, and silence slips in.
The silent snow is so good for us, so needed. It falls heavy on my yard and on me. We soak in this quiet, and it blankets us in, deep and still.
Pause with me this afternoon. Grab a hot drink, stare out your window for a few minutes, and watch the snow fall, the clouds slide, or the trees sway in the silent wind.
Peace.
What does a quiet Sunday afternoon look like for you?
