We are safely here at my daddy’s house in northern Alabama. Each January, we make this journey (except last January, of course). Each January, we wish for snow. It’s only fallen once for us, several winters ago. Today, the first snow of the season started to fall just a couple of hours before we arrived. We all watched in awe as flurries grew into big fat flakes that blew sideways at us along the highway. By the time we got to Huntsville, the flakes were blanketing the ground, the rooftops, the treetops, the everything. Pure white. We pulled into PawPaw’s neighborhood two vehicles behind a salt truck. The roads were beginning to close.
The boys barely got a good warm hug in with their grandfather before bundling up in layers and hats and running outside to collect snow and do what damage they could with it. They are sleeping now, bellies warm, the sounds of PawPaw’s guitar in their recent memories, and dreaming of exploring white wonderlands tomorrow.