Unexpected Holiday

My daughter and I sat and watched the names of school closings scroll along the bottom of the news show, holding our breath as the alphabet neared our district. We compared stories. The rain was freezing on everything, encapsulating it in sparkling ice. When she went out to cover her car, she slid the whole way. When I wheeled the garbage to the curb, I skated.

Around us, the Christmas lights twinkled. It took two weeks, but they’re up. The dog wound his way between us, cat like, asking to be scratched, looking hopefully at his stocking. Although he checks his stocking daily, he’s learned in his 14½ years that it isn’t Christmas until we gather. He was clearly wondering: did this make it a holiday?

And it did, in a way. Odd, to me, that the times I remember most fondly through the years often have to do with bad weather, because it forced us to stop and come together, united against the elements. One of my favorites was the time the thunderstorm took out our power. My middle school- and grade school-aged children were torn from their lights and electronics, and we all gathered in the dark and comforted the dog and laughed even louder than the thunder.

We were lucky, of course. Lucky that the roof was okay, that the ice hadn’t knocked out power, that we were warm and comfortable in our home. That our district announced its closing the night before. That we had another unexpected holiday, the best kind.

“[Miss Maudie’s sunhat] was suspended in a thin layer of ice, like a fly in amber….” ~Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird. (I’ve used that one before, but it seems too fitting to pass up.)

Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief. ~Cicero