I woke at 2:30 am hot and wondering why it was bright in the living room—the power had magically reappeared! I snapped off the lights, peeled off some layers, and drifted back asleep.
When I woke later to the scrape of snow plows, I turned on my blackberry to see what time it was and to discern whether we had school or not. After reading a few promising tweets, I headed to the TV for confirmation.
I jumped up and down, squeeing "snow day! snow day!"
I peered out the windows at a world transformed by white. The driveway was, blessedly, impassable.
My mind sifted through a list of must-dos, want-to-dos, and maybe-dos:
Grade 12 essays.
Cook veggie stock.
Work on holiday cards.
Stay in pj's all day.
Stay inside all day.
Today was just the day I needed—an unexpected free day to fill with varied activities, without any sense of urgency. A gift.
The beauty of the snow day is the seeming randomness—who can really predict the weather?—and the sense of temporary vacation that transports one out of the weekday, schoolday routine. A day to recharge. A day to do something special. A day to just be.
As I rolled out sweet potato gnocchi and munched on caramelized onion focaccia tonight, I realized I was once again living purely in the moment, a blissful state that I spent most summer occupying. This fall semester, as I attempted to balance work with my fuller personal life, I often found myself rushing from one moment to the next in order to stretch some moments. And while I wouldn't trade any of those moments, I'd like to live more completely in every moment. Without rushing. Without attempting to disrupt the space-time continuum. To lose myself in whatever moment I'm experiencing. This is my winter wish:)