Gerry rises and takes Maya outside to tend to some early morning business, and sees it. I’ve been up for a couple of dark hours so couldn’t tell that the tops of the hills were white as if dusted with confectioners sugar, but now I can. I’m delighted as we watch white fall from the sky. It won’t last. The first one never does. But this first snowfall of the season makes me dance a silly jig.
Laurinda and I talk (and laugh!) about hygge season being upon us. I think about pulling out my bamboo knitting needles and starting a project. I put a pumpkin pie scented candle on my writing desk. I eye the Woodwick candle on the fireplace mantle.
Gerry and I get dressed for church. Hear that? Get. Dressed. For. Church. It’s like the old days—B.C.: Before COVID—when he sticks his head around the corner and asks about clothing choice. We worship in person, in a building, with a small group of people, and afterward share conversation and laughter and, man, it is so, so good.
We stop at a store on the way home and decide to come back tomorrow. One of the gifts of being retired is shopping at non-peak times. As we drive up the hill toward home I’m struck with the sweet Sunday afternoon feeling that lingers in the recesses of my memory.
We arrive home and change out of our “church clothes”. I pull something out of the fridge for lunch while Gerry sets up the chessboard. It feels like the good old days before the pandemic changed everything.
After lunch I make tea and we attend a beautiful wedding from the comfort of our den. I magically sync my phone with our smart TV and there it is, big as life. A man and a woman reading vows to one another, and there is hope. All the chaos in the world falls away, and there is just love.
The day hums along, the cacophony forgotten, and there is only peace as I bake bread and pull out flannel from my fabric stash for a special project. We talk about something special we’re planning to do soon and there is sweet anticipation. I had almost forgotten what that feels like.
This simple day, fat with worship and laughter and love and ordinary things I’ve missed so much, is balm.
And I’m so, so grateful for the respite and the laughter and the love and the ordinariness in every moment of it.