The other day we were briefly graced with snow.  Lydia sat on the back of the couch and watched the delicate flakes fall on our yard with a quiet reverence.  She was at the coronation of Winter.  A solemn witness to the passage of time.

“Lydia.”  I called to her softly.  But it took several attempts to break her trance. “Lydia, maybe if you and your sister get your snowsuits on this afternoon, I’ll take you out and we can make a snowman.”

She listened, and then took one final look out the window at the blanket of velvety snow covering all of the known universe.  Then she turned and slowly walked past me and headed up the stairs to her room.  In a sad voice she said to the floor as she left, “No Daddy.  We will never find a carrot out there today.”  She shook her head and ascended the stairs.