These are the days of winter I hate.
The gray skies, the blustery cold winds. The feelings of wanting to hibernate under warm layers of fleece, yet feeling cooped up and locked in all at once.
I can't get warm and stay warm so I wear my winter hat inside, and layer upon layer of clothes until I can layer no more.
So many things I should be doing, yet I find myself taking pictures of the kids playing their new game of 'body bowling' with rolls of paper towels; listening to them squeal in delight as the rolls go flying, and I can't help but laugh until my belly hurts because that's the laughter that feels the best.
And so it goes, I set up the 'pins' and they use their bodies to knock them down, over and over and over again.
I don't glance at the kitchen table, still covered with the stuff of lunch, or the sink of dishes that haven't been touched.
I don't jump up when the dryer stops to get the neverending loads going again. I even ignore the crumbs on the floor, and this one may be the hardest yet. My eagle eyes always land on the crumbs on the floor, and they always have to be swept up right away. But I'm worried that if I move, these feelings will be swept away and I can't get them back, because who can duplicate a game like this; the laughter like this; the squeals of delight like this?
So I keep snapping; keep capturing; keep setting up what is being knocked down, and suddenly I catch a glimpse; just a tiny glimpse of a clearing in the sky; a patch of blue underneath all of that gray, and I know the gray; the cold; the bitterly cold can't last forever.
Today is just a day, one day closer to the end of the gray and closer to the blue skies; the budding, blooming colors of warmer days and brighter days and longer days and I can do this another day.