A Little Snow

    The snow is falling.  The sky is filled with flakes the size of silver dollars.  The kids are running ahead of me, trying to catch the flakes with their tongues.  A snowball fight breaks out between the three of us as we near our house.  The gray sky is fading to night.  We shake off the snow dust as we enter of the door.  All of our shoes are piled in the hallway.  The giggles fade and it is time for homework.  The house becomes quiet.  I sit awaiting the finished products of math and writing.   Outside the window the snow mesmerizes me.  I catch myself thinking of my mom and dad.  I talked with "Grandpa" earlier today, just checking in.  We talked of the weather, the snow, hunting, and the farm and woods.  It will be a few days before I can return to the farm.  By then the snow will probably be gone.  I wish I could be there today, to sit in the field and listen to the snow pile up across the landscape.  It makes such a delicate noise as it quietly crashes through the trees.  The tiny crunch of the snow as each flake lands on another.  Even now looking out the window, the snow hides the boring, everyday neighborhood.  It paints the city pure again, if only for a little while.  My thoughts are cut short by an overzealous plow truck scraping the white coating from the street.  I move to ready myself for work and check homework.  As I enter the room looking for finished assignments, I catch two kids peering out their windows, hypnotized by the falling flakes.  I do not question their inattention, I am guilty of the same thing.