You wake up on a winter morning and
pull up the shade, and what lay there
the evening before is no longer there --
the sodden gray yard, the dog droppings,
the tire tracks in the frozen mud,
the broken lawn chair you forgot to take
in last fall..
All this has disappeared overnight,
and what you look out on is not the snow of Narnia
but the snow of home, which is no less shimmering
and white as it falls. The earth is covered with it,
and it is falling still in silence so deep that
you can hear its silence. It is snow to be shoveled,
to make driving even worse than usual, snow
to be joked about and cursed at, but unless
the child in you is entirely dead, it is snow too
that can make the heart beat faster when it
catches you by surprise that way, before
your defenses are up. It is snow that can
awaken memories of things more wonderful
than anything you ever knew or dreamed.
from Telling The Truth
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