I sit up in bed, sure that it’s too early to be awake, but unsure of the exact placement of the hands of the clock ticking next to my pillow. My eyes are tired and burning, my mind numb from restless sleep. Attempting to grasp some concept of time, I lean to my right and peer out my bedroom window, it’s dotted in precipitation, so my eyes go funny while I try to focus beyond the glassy polka dots and down into the dark night.
And then I see it. Across the roof of the building below, and on the big oak tree, a sparkly white blanket. It twinkles and winks at me, as if it knew just how much I’d anticipated its arrival and waited until this moment to truly shimmer for an audience of one. Underneath the creamy yellow street light, snowflakes dance and flirt with each other, swirling, bumping into one another before falling to the ground.
I watch, mesmerized, longer than any adult should. The thin layer of snow will probably melt before I wake up, the first snow always does, I think to myself. So, I tiptoe to the kitchen, my path lit by twinkly Christmas lights, and push my white teapot onto the stove. Clinking my way through the highest cupboard, I stretch tall to reach my favorite teacup, small, gold and light pink. Soon, it’s filled with spicy tea and together we retire to the living room, wrapping up in a chunky knit throw to watch winter’s coat clothe my street.
This year, this first cold, shiny white blanket tells me I’m close to finishing another semester in college; it signals that Christmas is nearer than yesterday, bringing with it a new year with new beginnings.
I’m so ready for new beginnings, I think to myself minutes later as I, still in a sleepy fog, snuggle back up in my bed. Reaching to turn out the light, I say it aloud.
So very ready.