Peace In A Great, Big, Empty Place
Yesterday was the first time in a long time that we received significant snow. I dragged two of my three kids out into the yard long enough for one of them to decide that he wanted to come back inside. The other, my oldest daughter, was willing to walk with me and so we left my property for a hike up the road, and having gotten there, we turned left into a small development, and having walked through that, we walked into a field where we’ve been told that we’re allowed to tread. This information came second hand but it seemed unlikely that anybody would object to us disturbing a hillside’s worth of snow. We hiked to the top of it. When we arrived, my daughter collapsed into the snow because she was tired, and she lay there, cold but happy enough and tired. I took a few steps and turned away from her, and for a moment anyway, it seems as though I was alone in the entire world. I could see as far as the fog and the clouds would allow and snow fell all around me and there was nothing to hear but the wind.
Peace is a rarely achieved thing but I find it occasionally, briefly possible.
We stayed for maybe ten minutes and then hiked back down the hill and through the development and down the hill and to our property. I wanted to keep going and did. My daughter scurried off to go back inside where it was warm.