I love the hushed frenzy of a blizzard—the way the snow absorbs the sound of the riotous confetti flakes, like a secret, profoundly silent celebration.
And then there’s the surprise of opening the blinds in the morning to see the outdoors gone white overnight. It’s always an exciting little shock that such a complete transformation could have been so stealthy, sneaking so much snow while the world sleeps.
Then in the dark and early morning, I watched TV with the sound off while still warmly tucked under my down comforter, and there was that thrilling moment when our district’s name appeared on the list of school closings. Three more hours of snuggly sleep.
And then, the best silent surprise—my teenaged children went out to shovel without my asking, without saying a word.
Some of the greatest miracles, I think, are silent.