A Winter's Night

I knew the storm was coming. Not for the usual reason - my body going into a sure, slow nosedive - though there was a bit of that sensation as well. This time, husband informed me before it arrived, as we discussed the weather in Salt Lake City vs. Laguna, California, where I had just been vacationing with my youngest son.

I had been out running errands and to the gym. I knew as the flakes continued falling that all I would be getting at Costco was gas. Time to head home before the storm, before the traffic, before dinner time.

No one is home as I slide open our back door. My body relaxes. I don't know why I love coming home to an empty house. Maybe it has something to do with so many years of a full house and feeling overly responsible for everything and everyone in it. Don't get me wrong, I loved hearing the sounds of children as mine were growing up. I realize in hindsight that I didn't have to make or take things as seriously as I did. But anyhow, I appreciate this season in my life where the demands have relaxed, at least for now. And I'll take responsibility for that frame of mind, as well ;-).

Hmmm, what to do first. Laundry, that is always good to start with. Love the smell of the fabric softener (lavender), and I take an extra whiff as I pour it into the dispenser. Then, the feel of warm towels fresh from the dryer. I fold them happily as I chat on the phone with darling daughter for a few.

What next? Not sure what time the hubs will be home, so I decide to straighten up a few hot spots. Christmas cards? Removed and recycled. I decide to save a few with pics of my extended family, family I am lucky to see every 3-4 years. I tape these cards to the fridge. I save one from a friend - a new friend, one I have made this year. The handwritten note on the back makes me smile. I decide to use it as a bookmark. Incoming mail? My, when did that basket get so full?! Okay, we'll deal with that a little at a time. No need to knock myself out here. Cleaning house should feel, well ... cleansing! And it does.

Though the Christmas cards are purged, I decide to leave up our Christmas wreath which hangs above our front hall table. It's probably a fire hazard by now, but as it is nowhere near a fireplace or heat source, I decide to spare it's life for a few more days.

I light a candle and fix myself some hot cocoa. The candle is one I received for Christmas, rosemary eucalyptus scent. It reminds me of the pleasant afternoon darling son and I spent just a few weeks ago, picking out a candle for his girlfriend's Christmas present. He liked this same scent, but chose a more expensive one for his gal. Darling husband went back that afternoon, just before Christmas Eve, and bought me this one. It's fragrance dovetails nicely with the lavender.

What else might I do so the home will seem more pleasant before darling husband gets home from work? Dinner for him is taken care of. I notice the piles on the living room coffee table. I'll get to that. First, to continue with the fragrant adventures. I decide to sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Rosemary scented cleaner for that job. It has a bit of bite to it that tickles the senses but doesn't overwhelm. The chore is done in about five minutes or so. I even take the time to scrub a few stubborn spots.

I continue with taking out the recycling. The trash and recycling cans are on the other side of the carport of the rental we currently live in, so I have to go outside and walk up the drive to do this. I slide open the door, and fresh, cold, clean air flushes my cheeks. Drifts of freshly fallen snow, soft and deep, surround our patio. I am surprised and delighted by the sensation of newness that accompanies the falling snowflakes.

Wonder presents itself. It's a pleasant feeling.

Careful of my inherently weak joints, I set down the two bags of paper to be recycled and begin shoveling a very narrow path to the drive. Only eight feet or so long. I try not to injure myself - I rarely know for sure in the moment if I am doing so with tasks like this, so I tend to leave them to someone else - but I am careful and think I am okay.

My, but the snow and air and night sky are beautiful. I can see the city lights below to one side, softly lit, making them look further away than they are. Everything off in the valley seems ... surreal.

Everything close to me is soft and fresh at the same time.

I breathe in as I walk to and from the recycling bin. I marvel at the beauty around me. I carefully make my way back to the house. And I realize that in these simple things, there is great peace. God feels near.