I peek out the front window, the blinds raised halfway. Snow is falling. Silent. Soft. I stand mesmerized as it sticks to the bushes, the solitary tree in the front yard and the concrete walkway leading to the house. The yard is carpeted with a soft plush blanket of white. The occasional vehicle passes slowly, the headlights capturing the small flakes falling as if in slow motion.
The baby monitor registers sound and I let the blinds down and prepare to walk up. The sound dies off and I make my way to the study. All today, I have been in preparation mode. I did all the laundry I could. I dug out winter gear. I made sure the kids had a warm bath. I found boxes of matches and candles and put them where I could get to them in the dark. As the sun went down and the house resigned itself to a day or more of sustained snow, I ventured outside. Cap, gloves, long jacket and scarf donned, I wrestled the huge can of ice melt to the driveway. Armed with a dustpan, I dug into the can and scattered the white crystals. I started at one end and worked my way up to the mail box leaving behind me sparkly crystals that glowed and sparkled in the fading light.
Snot dripped from my nose, my cheeks were flushed, my feet and toes frozen by the time I was done. I hauled the now lighter can back to the garage and closed the door behind me. The air outside smelt of snow. It felt heavy and pregnant with moisture that was ready to magic itself into tiny flakes.
Right after dinner, the kids and I stood by the patio door, the outside lights on watching it swirl and dance on its way to the ground. The playset acquired a fine dusting by the time we called it a day. Ammu and Pattu whispered good night and closed their eyes to visions of sledding and snowballs. Laddu kept repeating snow till her eyes drooped and her breathing evened.
Tomorrow we will wake up to winter wonderland. We will sit by the glass doors watching and sipping hot beverages. Saathi will bundle up and shovel. The kids will be out sledding and freezing. I may venture out to help. Or not. I will take a ton of pictures and store them away to revisit years from now.
The week will come and the sun will melt the greying mountains along our driveway. Life will go on. Yet, the next time there are whispers of a storm coming, I will be logging in to weather forums and tracking the moisture as it travels half way across the globe to fall in silent piles at my door step.
Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.