Hopeful Memory

I know we don't get to choose what we remember. If we did, there would be quite a few people missing embarrassing or sad chunks of their past. But every now and then, I hit a moment in life that I hope calcifies itself into a memory. 

I had such a moment today. I was holding LittleDebbie, who was recently-fed and content. She snuggled against my body, smiling. The snow was falling gently out the windows. Not a shovel-twelve-heavy-inches snow, but a dust-things-and-melt-tomorrow snow. The house was quiet. The older girls were at school. I hadn't yet gotten the "MeToo's running a fever, please come get her" call. The rug beneath my feet was recently vacuumed. The dogs hadn't shed on it yet. All was right in the world. 

It was the calm before the storm. I didn't know that then. I just knew that it was calm. And all was well. And it was blissful. 

When I'm elderly and looking back over decades of motherhood , I hope that this is one of the moments I remember. Not one of the ones where I lose a star for yelling at the girls. But that moment of stillness and peace, a true gift.