Light and Warmth

The dark comes early now, and even a trip along the path to Grandpa's necessitates jackets, mittens, hats for little heads.

You'd think that after 26 years of living in this state I'd be used to it, but I huff and grimace and shiver like I've never felt an icy cold blast.  My wool coat flaps in the wind and my face burns.  "Its only going to get colder." I remind myself.  Colder, and darker.

Even inside I'm still quaking, layering as much as possible, thermal and flannel and wool one on top of the next.  It helps a little.

Our fireplace stands empty this year as in the past 3, chimney needing too much renovation before a fire can be safely made.  I light a candle instead, stretch toes out toward the light flickering on the coffee table.

I'm sitting here under flannel patchwork, watching that flame and thinking dark thoughts about months of cold and darkness,  when along comes that big boy of mine.

"Mmmm, I love the way that candle smells."  He flops beside me on the couch.  "I love how cozy it is in here during the winter - with candles and blankets to snuggle with."

He shifts my quilt, buries himself underneath, and then...

Two little arms come snaking around my middle.  He's hugging me.

I wrap around him, pull him close, close my eyes and feel the warmth spreading all over me.  And I don't pull back, because I'm the Mama and who knows how long this will last, this hug, this boy, this warm light that is shining all around us.

Light always wins over darkness.  Warmth is the master of cold.  Both resurrect the broken and dead and empty.

In this snug little home tonight, light and warmth have won.  And I won't be the first to let go.