I’ve always loved the quietness of the world after a heavy snowfall. As though the universe covered the landscape with a fluffy white blanket, muting all sounds, making the world a calmer place for a little while.
Too bad the snow is unable to muffle my swirling thoughts.
When I sigh, Merry’s head shoots up and she looks at me with wide happy eyes. “Not sleepy,” she says and pats my chest with her palm before squirming off my lap, slithering down from the bed, and running out of the room as though she didn’t just wake up. I’m jealous of her seemingly endless supply of energy and how she’s rested and energized from the moment she opens her eyes, ready for whatever the world throws at her.
When did I lose that? Did I ever have it, or was I always the quiet, artistic thinker?
I shake my head and get off the bed, ready to rejoin the celebration, but I change my mind and walk to the window instead.