Snow? Snow!

Snow doesn't happen often in this small town. We're nestled in a valley with towering sapphire blue mountains hugging us from all sides; the tops of those mountains is where the snow lives during winter. Sometimes, rarely, there will be storm that gives a quick flurry of sleet, but it doesn't stick for longer than five minutes.

So when there was a text message in my group-chat with an excited, "Guys it's snowing!!!" I popped out of bed to see.

10pm on a school night and the Heaven's decide it's the perfect time for a storm. Unlike raindrops, which land with aggressive thunks against the clay tiling of my roof, this snow storm crept upon our town like a thief in the night.

I opened the backdoor a crack, flipped on the porch light, and there it was. Thick as a blanket, cold as sin. The heater kicked on within seconds, in apparent shock from the influx of freezing air.

I ran on tiptoes to the bedroom, mindful not to wake the sleeping bundle of joy in his crib, and nudged my husbands shoulder.

"It's snowing, love!" Sharing my excitement, he was up and trailing me to the door.

When we can count on one hand the number of snow storms we've seen stick, there's a certain bubbling giddiness at watching the snowflakes flying amuck.

Though now the storm was weaning, but the glistening drops of wonder remained. We shared a kiss in the doorway and hurried back to bed.