The snow keeps falling and falling and the boys are full of wonder, and questions: Why are they called flakes? How long will it stay? Where does it come from?
I try to explain storm clouds gathering over the ocean, so far away, and even more impossible, moisture in the air, carried by the wind…it’s all beyond them, and me too really, but I keep trying until finally, I say, “Magic. It’s like magic, isn’t it?”
Because it is. It’s exactly what it feels like: the brightness shining in their eyes, their rosy cheeks, all 3 of them so perfectly full of life, and the snow, now glowing in the winter twilight. The yard is criss-crossed with sled tracks and little-boy boot prints, and the sound of their laughter is a path that leads me home.