I put the dishes in the drying rack and stand still to admire the snow falling out back. It's the kind that falls heavy like rain and stacks thick upon itself. A flutter in the corner of my eye is a bird flitting from the wire to the branch, flashing white stripes beneath his wings. Another flutter, this time a bright spatter of red against the white. It's a cardinal, majestically perching upon a wire. She flashes her red wings and swoops to another branch. I become aware there are a dozen birds, jumping from branch to branch, branch to rooftop, wire to branch.
Why do they keep moving around? Are they startled when a snowflake lands upon their tail feathers? Are they looking for their
favorite perch? Are they staying warm? Are they searching for food? Are they chasing a mate? Maybe they have nowhere else to fly.
Rachel is coming home soon and the driveway has accumulated three to four inches of snow in the last few hours. I lace up my boots, wrap a scarf around my neck, put on my warm jacket, pull on some gloves, crown myself with my Mad Bomber*, and begin pushing huge stacks of heavy snow down my driveway.
Something hits my shoulder.
I look up. It's Anthony, a fifth-grader with a goofy smile and snowy gloves. That's right - this snow is perfect for snowballs! With one swipe of a hand I pull up a packed orb and chuck it. Anthony chucks one back. Amaya joins in, laughing. Before long, five neighborhood kids and I are diving behind snow mounds, lobbing snow bombs, pelting each other in the head**, leading charges, and hiding behind one another.
Between helpings of snowballs to the face, I pause to take in the moment. Pure fun. Joy. Fearless playfulness. Timelessness. Inclusion. Laughter. Thrill. Maybe it was during similar play when Jesus said the kingdom of God belongs to children. Maybe he tossed one back at them.
After dinner, the wreckage in the front yard is lit only by streetlights. My breath fogs the window to the back yard as I remember where the birds played this afternoon, where the cardinal stood red against white. Soon all of our bootprints and perchprints will be only dimples in a new blanket of snow. It was a good day.
*If you don't know what a Mad Bomber is, it's one of the coolest things I own.
**Fairly and nicely, of course. No children were harmed in the making of this snowfight. When I was a kid, the older neighbor would sometimes get too rough with us. If one of us began to cry, everyone else hushed him so our parents wouldn't find out and stop the game.
love it.
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