Today, it turns out, is a first. The first time I was ever sad to see snow arrive. The first time snow ever made me cry. See, my brother and his family now live two hours away, so when the snow started, even though it was only 11:45 a.m., they had to leave. They have horses to take care of and a dog to feed and let out, and so before the slush that we in Georgia call snow transformed into the much more common and treacherous ice, they had to get on the road home.
Christmas, cut in half.
Under any circumstances, this might have made me sad. Even really sad. But today I was more than sad. I cried. For a long time even. I kept sobbing and hugging them and saying, I have no idea what’s wrong with me.
It was a beautiful day, regardless. And a lovely night last night. We made a big dinner, sat around talking and drinking wine, then switching to Bourbon. Then we watched the holiday classic “The Big Lebowski” (after the 8-year-old went to bed). Then I locked myself in my room for my annual ritual of present wrapping and stocking stuffing while watching “It’s a Wonderful Life.” The perfect evening. Today it was coffee and biscuits and stockings and my hilarious nephew rushing around, handing out all the presents, having to repeatedly ask “Which ‘Mom’ is this for?” because I forgot to write “Grandma” on all my Mom’s presents.
It was this big, warm, wonderful, timeless moment where we all got to talk and laugh and enjoy each other’s company like we hadn’t seen one another for decades. Capturing it in words or photography is doubtful, but, as always, I tried.