Snow Day: Old Lady Style

Snow is falling outside this morning. As I sit here under my comfy blanket, I watch as big clumps of white snow lofts down and settle on the hand railing. A blanket of white covers the land making the morning feel clean and new. A good way to start a day. I have a snow day.

I drew in a large mouthful of sweet sip coffee and sighed with gratefulness for the moment of silence. I reached over and grabbed my phone and turn the do not disturb option and chose to check out of life's events. I have the rare opportunity to take some me time and yet, I chose to spend some time to write today. Coffee and computer time, what a good way to spend a little time being whimsical.

I have no real purpose for this other than this thought. My mother's house, the house I live in, never or almost never had silent days. Seeing that I am the eleventh child, there was always noise of one type or another. Even when we were adult children, she was partnered or my brother was here caring for her. This silence she never experienced and yet I feel as if it was her gift to me.

As I sit here, I surmise my surroundings and see a blank canvas. The walls are bare except one photo hanging on the wall. I smiled as I looked at my twenty year old self in the photo. All thirteen of us crammed together on a picnic table for a family photo was a feat in itself. This house protected each one of us as we grew to adult hood. That cycle is done and a new cycle is emerging. It is now my turn to make this home mine. It is time to paint the life I want to live here. As the new artist, I ponder what the first stroke should be on the canvas.

Mom's humble home was her legacy. Her children were here legacy. Her strength was her legacy. Her kindness was rare for it was formed in the fires of life. To overcome her trials, it took such strength that many people would never know nor understand. Yet, she emerged the victor and made a home for siblings and I. Everyone knows, mom took much pride in her home.

As with aged homes, repairs need to be done. This is one truth I am grappling with at this moment. The repairs are such, that I might as well do a remodel on the home. Even more so, finish the house and add the rooms that never got added. I struggle with this for the sentimental value of the home will be lost. Weeks have passed and I have played with possible remodels that I would be proud of and that mom deserved. Over the past week I decided the repairs still have to be made so I will get the estimates done so I can make a decisions and move on.

A fluster of snow caught my eye and drew my attention out the window. Two squirrels dash from limb to limb playing in the snow. Agile jumps entertain the recess of my mind. Then I think, "get busy". When I see them in my day, it is natures way of telling me to get back to work. However, the squirrels aren't working today. They are playing! It is a snow day. It is a play day, right?

With the last sip of coffee I rose to take my cup to the sink. I rounded the corner to see what the darkness has shrouded from my drowsy eyes. The morning light lingered on a battle zone. My clean counters were cluttered and covered by wrappers and food stains left by unknown guest in the night. My moment of peace was robbed by a dirty kitchen.

A dirty kitchen is a decent price to pay for the work the unknown guest had left for me. In confusion, I began to panic in sorts. I live alone so this should not have happened as I slumbered. It didn't take long to see the snow had been moved and drying gloves and boots were placed next to the door. My children came and shoveled as I slept. They are now sleeping upstairs so I guess their midnight snack is worth the mess I need to clean up this morning.

Being semi-retired is nice. I work when I want to or can. Today is a snow day so I can enjoy this time. The squirrels say to play. Perhaps I should throw down a wonderful breakfast for my sleeping guests. I can take the time to make them feel special for I feel well cared for. I guess it wouldn't hurt to make sure they too are cared for. I am thankful I can have the time to do so. Being semi-retired has opened opportunities for people to visit.

Through the past few weeks, I have toyed with many ideas to better my business. As I move through daily task, I'd stop and scribble a note on a sticky note to myself and place them where I was. I can be very random and the collection of sticky notes on the corner cabinet, microwave, refrigerator, and bathroom mirrors show how squirrel like my brain can be. I had been so busy with Christmas that I hadn't noticed the insane amount of sticky notes around me. I took a deep breath as I looked at the sticky note mayhem. I covered my mouth with the disbelief that they were glowing in the morning light like beacons nagging for attention. Perhaps, today should be an office day and I should attend to business.

The mental battle of "Should Do" and "I Wanna Play" waged the hour away. The "Should Do" shower occurred. The "Should Do" load of laundry done. The "Should Do" dishes are done and kitchen cleaned. So far, not such a fun day. So far, the "Should Do's" are winning. Perhaps, if I knock all the "Should Do's" out, I will have time to play.

The morning wanes as does the list of chores. There is hope to do something other than work. The storm rages outside and the blanket sits and waits for me to return to it's comforts. The bacon begins to sizzle on the stove top as the oven sounds as the gas flames rip through its belly. With a pop, the biscuits are freed and placed on a pan to go into the oven. The percolator began to boil showing the browning water through the clear crown of the lid. The smell of breakfast began to fill the air. Once this chore is done, I can enjoy my company.

I remember the mornings waking to the smell of breakfast cooking. Our cold drafty home would cause me to linger in the warmth of the blankets. I would lay there and listen to my mother scurry in the kitchen as I laid there taking in the wonderful smells. I would lay there lingering in the moment until I would hear mom yell up the stairs, "Breakfast is ready!" Then and only then would I emerge from my slumber.

"THUD, THUMP, GROAN, GRUMBLE, CREEKING WOOD, TURNING DOOR HANDLE, SHUFFLING OVER FLOOR, THUMPING DOWN THE STAIRS."

Breakfast was ready and apparently so were my guests. My tall and lanky son lethargically sauntered down the stairs followed by his lady. His eyes were clouded as he glanced up at the nearing noon clock. With a disbelieving look in his eyes, he stumbled over to give me a good morning hug as he made his way to the restroom. My son was my sneaky guest.

My son is homeless right now. The owner of the house will not let home stay so, he stays in a motel room a lot. On days where shoveling needs to be done, he will spend the night. I haven't been paying attention to the weather so I had no idea the amount of snow we were to get. I woke to clean walkways so he deserves to slumber and be fed. It is so hard to see your children struggle. Homeless or not, he is doing the best he can do to fix his situation. This morning, he is my guest.

Conversation over slurps of coffee fill my dining room. Where there once was a boy stands a man who can't seem to catch a break. I listen and nod as the weight of his world is unloaded off his shoulders. His frowns disappear and his smile emerge once again. He knows that I can't help him with much but I am there when he needs someone. With coffee cups filled, we retire to the recliners to watch The Price is Right.

I remember the snow days of old. Pajamas, a bowl of corn meal mush, and watching the T. V. as we ate. I loved those mornings. Mom made them so warm and fuzzy. That was something she was good at. Making her family feel loved and cared for. I would even dare to say it was her gift. Now, I chose to pass that on to my son. The gift of a warm and fuzzy snow day.

I also remember our snow days as a kid. About mid-day, we would all dress and go out sledding. If my grandkids were here, I would take them out and play. Seeing that I don't need to do that, I will play in my mind and enjoy my time with my son. That is medicine for my soul. This is a snow day old lady style.