A deep freeze has descended upon St. Louis this morning. It’s our second day of the first snowfall. The salt trucks have been out all night, drive-ways have been shoveled and frost has left frozen snowflake patterns dancing on my door. The world is still a bright white. Our rolling hills are blanketed and beautiful. All is quiet. No sign of my “deer friends,” they must be snoozing, snuggled beneath the warmth of fallen leaves.
Last night I addressed Christmas cards, licking colored holiday stamps into the wee hours of the night. It was time to send them on their merry way. I slipped on a sweater under my heavy woolen coat before depositing bright red envelopes in my mail box this morning. My body is still chilled to the bone. I laughed at the thought of how two people from the same family can be so different? I’m jumping ahead here in my blog post today; please forgive me. The weather made me do it!
My son, Jayson, who lives with insulin dependent diabetes, is no longer the boy from dreams long ago. He works as a Forecaster for the National Weather Service, about an hour from my home. It is truly his dream job. Together with his faithful service dog, “Nimbus,” he’s put in long hours of passion during the last several days and nights.
I remember when he was my young sweet child. We used to read “Little Golden” books under bed covers before falling to sleep by the light of Big Bird. At the tender age of five or six, he dreamed of growing up to be a “weather-man.” Looking back, it was perhaps his way to escape. In stead of dwelling on insulin, “finger-pricks” or getting shots, he dreamt of snowflakes falling gently on hipped rooftops.
When Christmastime came, shopping malls were decorated with twinkling lights in red white and green. We’d drive to visit Santa Claus, where the old man sat like a king ripped from a paper page out of one of our story books. Santa was plucked down on his snowy crystal throne, a sight to see for sure. Jayson played the game, but it was the faux snow that fascinated him so. The white fluff was everywhere, in storefronts, on displays, and of course where Santa, sat. My son took his turn, standing in line behind kids with freckles, boys with no front teeth, and girls with long red braids. Finally, it was HIS turn to climb up on Santa’s lap!
After a short, “Ho-Ho-Ho,” Jayson pulled from his brown pocket corduroys a scribbled, crayola list. Santa gently took it from him and adjusted his slipping golden wire rims. He checked it two or three times before asking him if this was indeed what he wanted for his Christmas wish. “More than anything Santa,” my son replied in a little boy’s shy, hushed tone. “Well, I can’t promise you anything for sure,” Santa measured carefully. “My elves will try to bring you the rain gauge, barometer and snow measuring stick that you’re asking for,” he said, winking at me off to the side.
With that my son climbed down from Santa’s lap, sure his dreams were coming true. He had seen the “snow,” and had done his very best to make his Christmas wish come true. Later, I’d tuck him into bed that very night, give him kisses upon his rosy cheeks, and smile at his secret Christmas wish.
Yes, Jayson, there is a Santa Claus………..