Snowfall began again on Friday night, while my husband and I were on our way home from a Christmas party in Wicker Park. I walked, in heels, through the previous day’s shoveled snow and we stopped at Glazed and Infused for doughnuts on our way. I had chocolate glazed, simple but a much welcomed treat after eating more mindfully the past few weeks; my husband gleefully enjoyed a maple glazed bacon doughnut.
The snow continued through the night, we lazily awoke late the following morning to the sound of neighbours shoveling the walkway. I made a late breakfast of eggs and later in the afternoon because I still had some cranberries frozen from Thanksgiving I baked cranberry muffins, fat snowflakes falling past the kitchen window all the while.
The late afternoon snow clouds drew the night in more quickly, street lamps reflected orange on the snow. In the evening I began the slow, meditative work of cutting this year’s paper snowflakes while the boys stretched on the couch, languorously as cats. We watched movies together, comfortable, lit only by the glare from the TV.