Snow is the Metaphor for Love

534069_10151556521535296_69761195295_23749941_634588332_nSo, it is going to be a new year, very soon, kind and gentle readers. My days begin early, Usually 6:45 a.m. It surprises me to write this and see it on the page, since more than most of my life has been made up of going to bed too late and rising in time for the first lunch period in any High School in America. I was a performer for a number of years, working until 11 or 12 am, then returning home with a fantastic case of adrenaline that lingered till two or three in the morning. Unexpected changes were on the horizon.

Another unexpected in my life has been the new addition of a beautiful blanket of snow. It came in the best possible way, the way you’d hoped and prayed for, when you were a child who still believed in Santa Claus and happy endings to stories. Luckily for me, I never outgrew the ability to believe in all things good. This year, Santa still came to our house, thanks to that magical snow that fell on Christmas Eve. What every child hopes for!

It was the most beautiful of snowfalls. Simple, softly surrounding you with light, clarity, unexpected and even a bit scary, mostly because you didn’t believe Christmas Eve snowfalls were possible, anymore. I’m 52 years old. I wasn’t really into Santa or snow falling on Christmas Eve. I do recall a time we had a blizzard in New Jersey, one Christmas Eve, years and years ago in another life. It had snowed into the early evening and through Christmas morning! Living in a small village, all the homes put luminaries on their walkways and property abutting the street. I still remember how beautiful life was then, the whiteness of the snow turning a soft shade of yellow from the candlelight. I walked through the town at one am, amazed by how wonderful life is. And still is.

Snow. Love. Unexpected. Unplanned for. Life is like living in a snow globe, these days. Prior to this I had lived three and a half years of my life being sad and strong, always strong, without a choice. Before that, my son was hit by a car and given Last Rights and five surgeries for walking in the cross walk. I will never forget James’ fourth surgery followup was the day of my husbands’ first surgery. New Year’s Eve was spent with sparkling cider in ICU, looking out at Narragansett Bay and promising to myself the next year would be better. I do hospitals well, but I prefer not to, anymore, thank you very much.

So, this love. A new love. I never would have expected it. A gift. Like the snow globe  Does it end my blog? No. My life is not over, yet. However, there is a new chapter, looming. The new year has opened up the possibilities of publishing my first novel. This thing called life is remarkable. Very much like snow on Christmas Eve. I was given the gift of the snow globe from my  bereavement specialist, around the time of my late husband Scott’s birthday, December 5th. He would have been 53. In heaven, he is still 51, which has always been my favorite number, as long as I can remember. He will always be 51, in my heart. His cardinal visits me, every morning, on the branch outside the window where I write this and many other thoughts down. Yesterday, however, it was different. Scotts’ cardinal was there, but was joined by another, equally beautiful one. They stayed for some time, with clarity and song, announcing the newly falling snow and reminding me of the snow globe and the words on the base of it that counsels.”Love Like It Is Never Going To Hurt”. I will try.

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