It's finally snowing in Cleveland. When the first jumbo flakes started falling on Sunday, Arlo and Hazel set up shop at the big picture window in our living room, alternating between playing with their "too-toos" and being completely enthralled by the snow—staring, open-mouthed, and pressing their little palms against the cold glass in amazement.
For just a second, I stopped thinking about how much it was going to suck to drive in, and joined them in their wonder. Seriously, that fluffy shit really can be pretty, can't it? And the ice that forms on the outside of the window? It looks like feathers and intricate spiderwebs and tiny Christmas trees—and the kids were right to let it stop them in their tracks. Because it's spectacular.
Yesterday, I attended an offsite brainstorm for work, and when the facilitator asked the group, "What inspires you," my eyes filled with tears before the last syllable even left her mouth, because of course the answer is Arlo and Hazel. I immediately thought of how they'd watched the snow, and I'll be damned if I can even think about how awesome they are—and how they inspire me to do better and be better—without crying like a fool.
Nobody told me that'd happen.
But I wouldn't have understood anyway.