When June woke up from her nap and saw the snow falling outside the window, she squealed. Together, we stood there at the window, watching it come down, fascinated by the blowing confetti of white. She is too small, of course, to remember the endless season of snow last winter and so we experienced this first glimpse of winter in awe and wonder.
By the time I came home from the grocery store, there was an inch of snow in the yard. Quickly, I unloaded the groceries while Sean bundled June in her snowsuit and boots. Then, the three of us walked outside into the white-washed yard, excited to play before the sun went down.
Life runs on a different clock now that we are parents. Somedays, everything seems to take longer than it should, nothing is quick or easy: a trip to the grocery store can be a marathon, loading a child into a car seat makes us sweat, packing a diaper bag of necessities feels like a suitcase for a long journey. And as we stood in the front yard that Sunday evening, even the snowflakes seemed to fall slower than I remember. I watched them land on her nose and heard her laugh in response, a call of delight I wish never to forget. In that never-ending moment of firsts, I was grateful for the new pace of life; how lucky are we who get to experience life in slow-motion?