Snow of the Soul

Face upturned.
Eyes open.
Then close.
The velvet shadow of the black sky opens and icy confetti dances down, exposed by the soft white of a lone streetlight.
Chilled kisses on my child's cheeks.
Mouth open, catching winter's bits.
She turns to me, giggling.
Mom!  Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom...!
Watch me.
Watch this.
See me?
Oh, isn't it beautiful?
If the sky could feel the warmth of my heart for this little thing, it would turn these crystals to a tropical rain.
Overflowing.
What a gift it is, to see through her eyes, to feel that same innocence.
Purity.
Her arms open wide, stretching.
Can I hug God, Mom?
Look, I'm hugging Him.
And He's hugging me back with the snow!

I remember feeling the exact same way, watching her older brother and sister as they experienced so many simple things adults tend to take for granted.

She tramps inside for her cocoa, cheeks flushed with cold, and a child's wonder.
No one is looking now.
I step out from under the eaves.
Face upturned.
Eyes open.
Then close.
And I feel the chilled kisses on my smiling cheeks.

Wonder.