just another day

It was so gray yesterday, I thought I was turning into  the gray fuzz that appears on the t.v. when the cable is out.  Back in the old days when you could get free t.v. with an antenna.  You know, the kind that showed fuzzy pictures and warbled sound if you didn't have the antenna in just the precise placement or if you didn't hold it with tinfoil wrapped around it.  A discombobulated mass of picture and sound. That was how I felt walking around in the cold of my own skin and the over cast skies in a leaveless fall.

The not unhappy or happy feeling of being.  I wanted to curl onto the couch and hybernate into the very deepest corner cocooned in my favorite itchy wool blanket ( sweater and sweat shirts piled on for added measures) and drift off until the warmth of late spring roused me.Tthe cold does that to me, makes me wish for a deep and peaceful sleep like the bears. It was just the same this morning.  Nestled comfortably  under the covers next to the heater that is my husband seriously makes it hard to get up when the alarm goes off at 6 in the morning and start the day. But I am thankful that I am able to be warmed and snuggled by the man that God gifted to me.

I simply wish I could enjoy the seasons of cold like children do.  Being too cold carries some small amounts physical painful for me.  I do enjoy the look of the earth as it is blanketed in fresh fallen sheets and quilts of untouched snow. The sound of the kids laughing and playing in it is also heart filling.  I enjoy the manual labor that takes place with my son when he and I shovel the snow together.

This year will be different on that department as we live in a place where we don't have to shovel the powder into giant piles.  I wonder if he will miss that time with me. As much as I dislike being cold, I loved the physical exersion it takes to plow through the snow that cakes the side walks and the drive.   I am starting to think it is because it brings with it the promise of a large, very LARGE cup of cocoa with whipped cream and a hot shower. ( I am a fool for a good hot shower ). Or maybe its when I get to be the one to start the war of snowballs by shoveling the snow onto his head.  I think this is going to be the last winter I will be taller than him.  12 is bringing on the changes in my little boy. 

He is not yet a teen ager but deffinately not a little guy anymore.  He measures himself against me at least three times a week anxious for the day he can say he is taller than me. I am not sure I am looking forward to that day, the day my first born realizes he is bigger than his mother.  It is kind of a scary,  happy, sad thing to think about, the growing up of our kids.  I am very lucky though, in that he still hugs me and kisses me infront of his friends and that he still curls up next to me on the couch when we watch movies.  He is a heater like his daddy.  He keeps me warm and fuzzy inside with love. 

 My cup seriously runneth over with blessings.  I don't even know that I deserve them, but take them gratefully.