This past Sunday afternoon was lovely and quiet.
The sun shone through the windows, the wind was soft, and the snow sparkled with the promise of an early spring. It was so quiet in the house that I believe we might have even heard the cawing of a crow outside--if so, he would be considered an early bird sans doubt.
It was the type of afternoon where one could just lie on the couch and peruse through the books on the shelves imagining what stories and information each might contain. I remember afternoons like this when as a child our parents would be having a nap and we would have to be quiet so as not to disturb them, so quiet play with puzzles, reading, homework, or diary writing would be the activity of the day. As a teenager these types of days often brought on quiet experiments with messing around in the kitchen with results of under and over boiled fudge, caramelized popcorn that bordered on burnt, as well as crumbly undercooked puffed wheat cake.
Today this type of afternoon simply brought lonesomeness. Lonesome for my children who have moved on with lives of their own, and for my parents, grandparents, and friends who have passed.
On days like this snowmen would have perhaps been made, a cartoon movie watched, or a craft done if the children were still at home. If my grandparents were still available, I might been allowed to take the Snow Cruiser across the field to play a game or two of rummy before supper. Talking on the telephone with school friends while parents napped would have been another option.
But, instead, a perusal of the books on the shelves, some gazing out at the woods behind the house to watch the dog, and my own nap was enjoyed because of this quiet and sunny afternoon which brought to mind the ease of living in a world without the threat of frigid cold and raging winds.
A lovely afternoon indeed.
The sun shone through the windows, the wind was soft, and the snow sparkled with the promise of an early spring. It was so quiet in the house that I believe we might have even heard the cawing of a crow outside--if so, he would be considered an early bird sans doubt.
It was the type of afternoon where one could just lie on the couch and peruse through the books on the shelves imagining what stories and information each might contain. I remember afternoons like this when as a child our parents would be having a nap and we would have to be quiet so as not to disturb them, so quiet play with puzzles, reading, homework, or diary writing would be the activity of the day. As a teenager these types of days often brought on quiet experiments with messing around in the kitchen with results of under and over boiled fudge, caramelized popcorn that bordered on burnt, as well as crumbly undercooked puffed wheat cake.
Today this type of afternoon simply brought lonesomeness. Lonesome for my children who have moved on with lives of their own, and for my parents, grandparents, and friends who have passed.
On days like this snowmen would have perhaps been made, a cartoon movie watched, or a craft done if the children were still at home. If my grandparents were still available, I might been allowed to take the Snow Cruiser across the field to play a game or two of rummy before supper. Talking on the telephone with school friends while parents napped would have been another option.
But, instead, a perusal of the books on the shelves, some gazing out at the woods behind the house to watch the dog, and my own nap was enjoyed because of this quiet and sunny afternoon which brought to mind the ease of living in a world without the threat of frigid cold and raging winds.
A lovely afternoon indeed.
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