The other day I got to my son’s school a little early for afternoon pick up. I walk into the empty courtyard like I have hundreds of times before, but today there is one difference. Today it is snowing. Exactly at 3:00pm I hear a rumbling, I see the doors thrown open, the Kindergarten charge down the stairs like the bulls in Pamplona kicking and bucking. As their feet hit the soft snow they start jumping up and down screaming, dancing, and hugging each other. They were swarming like a beehive on ecstasy.
I stood there on the edge of the wall, a silent voyeur among squealing, laughing, children intoxicated with delight. They were catching snowflakes, their mouths wide open up to the heavens, making barehanded snow balls, and chasing each all other around. What a blessing to witness authentic unadulterated joy. I wanted to start jumping and dancing with them! I wanted to thrown down my purse and make snow angels. Being an adult and not wanting to humilate and emotionally scar my son. I kept my gleamed joy on the inside where it started sending goose bumps tingling up both legs, arms and soon I had tears warming my cold cheeks.
When the last time we mature responsible adults experienced genuine joy? I mean pure natural G-rated joy? Some of us experienced the excitement of watching Adam Vinatieri’s winning super bowl field goal kick, or the electric bliss of first love, perhaps that euphoric feeling of crossing the finishing line, getting the promotion, earning the degree, reaching your goal weight, well, wrap up all of these great moments and add a TV crew showing up to your house with tons of balloons and a big ass check. Then you will understand the magical power of a bunch of little kids, and one mom experiencing the magic of the season’s first snow.