Snow Day

Today my family went sledding. And I stayed inside. It was glorious. I hate the cold, always wish I was born in a warmer climate. I am not a New Englander in that regard. But today, as my family laughed and played. I stayed home and wrote. I wrote. I wrote 3 poems. I wrote 3, probably horrendous, poems. But 3 poems, nonetheless. I dusted off my ideas and tried my hand at writing again - something real and raw. And it was marvelous.

And my mind jumps to our second apartment. When my wife gave me the laundry room (since we were far too poor to own a washer and dryer) for an office. That 4x6 foot room just large enough for my L-shaped desk and chair. But she gave it me. Believing that my words, or my desire to write them, deserved space in our lives and in our home. And ever since she has been my champion and my cheerleader. Giving me time and space to pursue something I truly love. Something that makes me feel whole. And if my words only ever reach a few, she's given me the gift of being able to write them. The time, and space, and always encouragement.

Like today, the thumbs up from the car as she bundled our children for their adventure in the snow. And for this, I am always grateful.