It is snowing today. It started in little wispy flakes this morning and has continued relentlessly throughout the day. This Montana weekend brought negative temperatures and brutal winds, and I am freezing my sweet little Southern butt off 🙂 I am a transplant here, and some days, I like it. Not sure about today, but I do love the beauty of it all. Shoveling snow is new to me, but I am embracing it. I even shoveled the neighbors’ walk today while Fletcher was napping and I was proud of myself. I thought, “maybe I really am getting the hang of this.”

It was my first winter here in 2009 that I experienced sub-zero temperatures and ice-driving. The excitement of it all got me through until the April melt. Then, two years ago, we moved up the hill and I learned to maneuver my car down, down, down, to the valley floor for work and play. And I likened it to driving through the mud to get to our family’s cabin in high school. That was good training. But, I am still the one that keeps people waiting on the roadways- overly slow and steady. I don’t know the feeling of the slick well enough yet.

But as the Winter has arrived in its fullness, my heart has a feeling of longing that won’t go away. It is noticeably homesick. Maybe this is what happens this time of year, but my memory is in overdrive and I miss making cookies with my Mom when I was a little girl, making snow slushies with my Dad and decorating the tree with my little brother. Home has been calling me.

Driving back from an ugly sweater party last weekend, I was transported in my mind to the street I grew up on. It was Christmas time and my Mom, Dad, brother and I were in the old Chevy van approaching our home at 604 W. Clinton street. I felt again the anticipation, the bliss, the safety and peace. I remembered the feeling of magic and wonder as we passed the home across the street with the same decorations year after year. The big tree in the front yard caught my attention. It may have been surrounded by snow a handful of times- but this how I remembered it. We made the long jaunt down the driveway to the garage and headed inside. We laid by the old fireplace as we did once or twice a year, Christmas records playing in the background. Then after an hour or so, Dad carried me to bed and warmly tucked me under the covers. I was wearing my pink Rainbow Bright nightgown that I loved with the ruffle at the bottom, even though it was itchy. I remember it.

We passed the driveway that could’ve been mine 25 years ago. I turned to my husband, who was driving during this daydream thankfully, and told him about how homesick I felt. I told him of the magic feelings I must’ve outgrown and he said that he still has them every time Christmas approaches. I am thankful for that.

I remembered then, how strong childhood memories can be and how they shape us. And I thought of my son, asleep in the backseat. Bundled in an oversized winter coat only weeks ago learning the word snow and it still sounds like no….and I realized that my longing has a place to rest. I can help him experience the wonder of this Season. The wonder of every season and every part of his life and the miracle that any of us are here at all. And I am in love with him. And love is really what it is all about. And I am thankful that being homesick reminded me of all of this.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. mom
    Dec 12, 2013 @ 12:26:51

    Must be the season:) Memories are so sweet and special. Except I don’t miss the old van:)


  2. Beth Morey
    Dec 14, 2013 @ 03:11:24

    I love this. And it’s fitting, really, because Advent is the season of longing for Home. Love you.


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