It's snowy and cold. I love it and I loathe it.
I love the wool scarf and mitts my sister knit that I wear. I hate when the wool gets wet. I love the sights and sounds of bundled up children frolicking in the white. I hate that my thighs tighten with the whipping momentum of the mean wind. I love that the cold forces you to remain in the moment.
Although sweating can be not so fun, waking up to the cold air is intensely not fun. How do people get out of bed in this country during the winter? seriously? ugh- that cold air surrounding my bed. no thanks. Makes me love my duvet a little too much.
I went to Rowan's school to bake carrot cake with him and his classmates today. It was wonderful to be around little people, with all their joy and spontaneity and innocence and integrity. So easily hurt, so easily happy. So easy...
We went sledding after the baking. I was flooded with cold and wonderful memories of my birthday parties spent on the hill, with mulled wine and friends and crazy carpets. Thinking about it made me warm
If I spent too long in my head my body shivered a 'be present' response, and my nephew reminded me to push him.
'Give me a push auntie Bibi. You give a good push." said Rowan
hahah. I do?
I wish someone would push me down the hill, only.
Did I say that out loud? No. But Rowan must have seen my faraway and pitiful look and replied:
'Ok, I'll push you next time'.
"Thanks Rowie. You rule."
"I rule what?"
"My world, little man. You rule my world."