Thanksgiving Day I wanted a picture of the Give Thanks garden flag for the blog. Pulling on boots and throwing on a coat, I ventured out the front door to be greeted by a little friend playing alone in the snow.
Hi, Mom! You can come outside and watch me play, her little voice invited.
I really, really just wanted to snap a picture of the garden flag and run right back inside to finish writing and posting. Why did this child have to disrupt my agenda with an invitation to watch her play?
Okay. Let me get my gloves.
I ran inside fighting the battle that rages inside of me every single day, which to some is so elementary, but to me is very complex. Do I want a life well-lived or a life well-blogged?
Living means engaging and engaging means accepting and accepting means going outside to watch my child play in the snow.
I returned outside, prepared to watch.
You COULD help me build a snowman. You COULD.
The emphasis placed on could means that I certainly do not have to, but in this child’s world it’s a pretty strong invitation. An invitation to play.
What is my word for this year that is almost over, again?
Embracing the invitation, I began rolling a body using fashionable gloves, obviously not meant to keep hands warm in wet snow. Part of me wanted to laugh as a blanket of snow rolled right up, revealing a clear path of grass. I imagined clearing the entire yard in one fell swoop.
Part of her wanted to laugh at the yellow patches of dirty snow. She imagined all of the ways snow becomes yellow.
We worked together to make a mother and baby.
We played in the snow. Together. Just me and my little friend.