When my parents had their own home built and we moved in, I was 6 years old. Nearly all of the 30+ years since, they have a had a couch in front of their big picture window in the living room. My favorite spot soon became a corner of whatever couch was there, staring out the big window. I would take breaks from reading whatever book I was in and daydream endlessly while looking at the weather...the landscape...the crops...my brother outside working while I was in a nice warm house.
I see a little Heather developing in Sara. Of course they all have been fascinated by the winter storm over the past few days, keeping me updated on every development and venturing outside at regular intervals yesterday to play hockey with duct tape and hiking sticks. But today it's too windy. It was starting to snow heavily, too, as Sara took advantage of a lull in schoolwork to sit on our couch and stare endlessly out the window at the "blizzard", the many downed limbs from last night, and the regular snow plows. I sat beside her quietly and we made occasional comments.
"That's really a lot of limbs down," she noted.
"Look at that wind whipping around the barn," I pointed out.
"I'm glad Jesse and I fed the cats before the snow came," she said.
"I"m so glad we're in here and not out there," I added.
We sat and just watched for a while more.
"God must have a big, big, big, big memory to figure out what each next snowflake is going to look like," Sara said quietly.