It snowed today. In my part of Canada, that’s pretty rare, and I love when the flakes begin to flurry through the air. It’s a Sunday and we had nowhere to be. My kids were tired; my daughter had a cold. My husband has rarely left our bedroom in over a month, and so, we all climbed into the big bed and spent the day watching Disney and Harry Potter movies, while the snow danced outside the windows.
Sunday is not usually so quiet in our home. Our usual habit is to prepare for the week ahead, making meals, doing laundry, and getting errands done; but now, our habits are changing. When my daughter spent the drive home last night sobbing in fear, exhaustion, and the onset of a cold, I knew today would be quiet. When my son cried and feared he had been forgotten at his rock climbing class because I was not in the building when his class ended, I knew we all needed a break.
Like the unusual snowfall, sometimes the best thing to do, to get things back to normal, is to do something different. Leaning my head back on the headboard that my husband refinished years ago, before he changed careers to make working with wood his life’s passion, with my small son cradled in my lap, and my pale, tired daughter holding my hand, while she snuggled against her daddy’s shoulder, I knew that we were all exactly where we needed to be today.
The thing with major life events or traumas is to keep your routine as, well, routine, as possible. But it snowed today, and so we spent the day in a magical world where scary things are always defeated by love, by family, and by friends.