Archive for December 31st, 2005
Snowflakes
It snowed yesterday, thick feathery flakes that, unusually for this part of the world, settled to leave Leeds heaped in whiteness. I showed the girls the snow from our living room window but they weren’t bothered. Evelyn just sighed miserably at the injustice of her illness, Scarlett preferred the lights on the Christmas tree and Jemima turned round to watch her sisters on the floor instead.
I, at least, found it beautiful, and somewhat profound. The world changes when it snows. You have to look harder to see the things your eye would normally pass over. Shapes soften, pathways change as we search for safe footings, people come together to share warmth. Amid this world-changing snowfall, every snowflake is unique. All these things made me think of my life since my children arrived.
Important events echo around our lives, casting reflections, making other events into metaphors of themselves. I see my children in so many things. How wonderful for the ordinary to be transcended so, for it to be lit up with reflections of the love I feel for my kids. How lucky I am to be so in love that it cannot be contained, bursting out to colour the world a better, more intimate place.