First Snow

And so there it was, the snow, waiting for us, for our eyes to blink open after a long cold night. Ken has gone to Michigan so Duncan and the cats slept on the bed with me, curled around me, warm and soft, little mounds of dreaming heat around my feet and legs. It was a cold night, so I'd switched out the sheets for the new fleece ones and we slept heavy, with rich dreams, the kind that are warm and colorful but linger only briefly once the eyes flicker open, leaving a feeling in the head as though you were about to say something but forgot just as you opened your mouth to speak.

I expected Duncan to dash out into the fluff with all his exuberance but he wandered slowly as though still in bed, as though wondering if it was still Summer and this was some sort of long-lingering dream.  His steps were tentative at first and he kept his nose low, inhaling the stuff, turning his face into the fall and blinking against the flakes as they fluttered down onto his long eyelashes. Finally, though, he seemed to come awake and threw himself into it with all his spirit, running figure eights around me, his mouth hanging open so he could scoop it up and snort it out, the sound of his passage through it like music that echoed through the bowed branches bending under the weight of the first storm of the season.

Watching him I whispered my hopes for him into the cold air, the wind catching my breath and pulling my words out into the morning. May every flake be a blessing for him, of joy and happiness, long life and good health. May his joys and delights carry him through the winter and all the days of his life. And may I be there to witness every moment.