As I look out the front door I can see everything that's happened in my life flash before my eyes. There's something reminiscent about today that I can't really place, but it has caught my attention and refuses to let it go. The last couple years I've lived have certainly been the best ones of my life, I decide as I peer through the delicate glass at the landscape before me. The ground, just dusted white with a layer of snow, gives me no hint of the warm April weekend that had come and gone so quickly.
The air inside my house is colder than usual, so I have a blanket draped around my shoulders. It is not a special blanket—black, with white, red, and green spots—but it provides me with the comfort I need. The hot mug in my hands, filled with a spicy-smelling liquid, reminds me that I must be starting my day in only a few hours. The sunlight tells me as much.
Looking out my beautifully made window, I can see the red and gold and orange of the new day. It streams over the snow, sparkling off of each unique flake. It is truly magical. My children, JoAnna and Johnathan, have storybooks filled with witches and dragons and mythical lands, but that's not magic at all. This is truly something I can cherish, something that belongs in the dreams of young girls and boys.
I take a sip from my mug, letting the hot coffee warm me up even more than the blanket. In only an hour, perhaps two, my house will be filled with the sounds of my two young children, getting ready for school. As they walk down the stairs, my daughter will look out the window and squeal with delight, catching my son's attention. They will beg me to give them their coats and let them play. As much as I would want to, I must tell them that it's time for school. They will sigh, knowing that they must wait to play until they come home.
But when they do, I will help them into their little boots and mittens and they will amble outside, covered in fluff and finding it hard to walk through the now high layer of snow. Perhaps my daughter will fall into the snow, and then my son will laugh at her folly. But she will laugh too, and roll onto her back, clearing the snow away with her arms and legs.
Then she will stand, and look at the small impression on the snow that is hers and hers alone. My son will look at this and do the same, mimicking his sister. Then, covered with snow, they will go play, laughing with childlike wonder.
My ears pick up a sound behind me, snapping me out of my reverie. I feel someone brush my hair from my face to give me a peck on the cheek. It is my husband, Danny, awake and holding another steaming mug. He smiles and offers a soft, "Good morning, Sam," wrapping an arm securely around my waist. We don't speak afterwards; just look back out the window to the rising sun.
The morning will be peaceful. But this afternoon will sing with the cries of my precious snow angels.
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A/N: So, you like it? This was actually a submission to a newspaper I put in last April. It's slightly different now, but I'm still quite proud of it. I have a knack for writing drabbles, I guess. My dad read this and he got all big-headed about it. It was fun to watch. Anyway, I'm rambling. Hopefully I'll get to a real update soon, but school's about to start...so...yeah.
I dedicate this fic to my friend Brandon he helped me with Danny and Sam's kid's names.
Byeses!