We had our first snowfall of the season here in Kentucky (check local listings) and as I woke up this morning I found myself thinking how snowfall just doesn’t hit the way it used to.
I can’t exactly say why. I don’t think it’s me, getting curmudgeon, at my age. I mean, less than 10 years ago I still had that tickle of excitement to the sight of the white powdery goodness covering the ground. Before the kids got older, I used to get just as excited as they did, maybe more, because it meant I got to go out in the snow with them. I could be a bit of a kid, and make memories with my kids. Maybe as an adult, that’s my missing piece; my kids. Every other weekend just doesn’t lend itself to many snow day opportunities.
Before Abby’s mom and I got divorced, the house we lived in had doors going out to a back deck, which allowed a small Abby to get to look out the door and admire the snow and snowfall, from the comfort and warmth of the house. This actually lead to a ritual photograph I’d take, with her standing in front of the door, looking out, at the first snowfall of the year.
That ritual disappeared once her mom and I were divorced. Maybe that’s where some of my excitement and passion went. Stored and locked away. No real reason to get excited when you have no kids to go throw snowballs with. Just adulting and hoping I don’t slip and fall while walking Penny.
With the baby on the way, I believe and hope that excitement will return. The chance to see him experience snow for the first time is something I never got to have with Canaan. When it happened with Abby, I remember soaking in the excitement and curiosity she had, while still being aware of the absence of Canaan, and the absence of having that memory with him.
That’s something that’s always a constant when you don’t have all your kids, all the time. Missed opportunities, missed memories where there should be. I’ll have those moments with my new son too, where we’re making memories, and I’ll realize it’s something new I was unable to experience with his older siblings. On top of that will be an added spin that I’ll be aware of the fact that his older siblings will be missing out on seeing his excitement, seeing his face, and hearing his giggles. It’s an awareness that doesn’t take away from events or memories. It’s nothing that makes me hesitate on doing or not doing something. The awareness isn’t a negative, but an extra layer to things others don’t always have.
Without the kids, snow days truly do lose some of that luster and magic. I look forward to having that childlike excitement return with my son, while always carrying his siblings with me.