Saturday night's soaking rain gave way to honest-to-god snowfall late yesterday morning. By noon there was a brief break in the weather and the season's first sledders began to appear on the village's best hill, which happens to be just beyond our back door.
We watched the scene through our living-room window as we trimmed our Christmas tree. A boom-box, tuned to a local radio station playing holiday music, was fitting accompaniment for both.
Snow resumed later in the day and temps headed for the deep-freeze overnight. This morning we awoke to a few more inches of fluffy white stuff, whipped into drifts by winds gusting to 40mph.It's beautiful, bitter and perfect. Strolling outside on this frigid day I could find nothing worth complaining about -- and it struck me that somehow every moment here seems like a gathering of perfect things.
The absolute rightness of these days is, for me, inescapable.
As my family and I decorated a tree for the first time in two years, I couldn't help but think back to where we were last December, living in a toxic atmosphere of alcoholism and hate. We pooled our humble human grace and persevered through collective force of human will. We survived to greet this tree, a glimmering symbol of holiday memories and joy surpassing anything we imagined.Life's difficulties, like today's icy wind, challenge the peace that lives with us in this place. No matter -- our spirit thrives.
