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It’s snowing in Texas again.
When I was a kid, growing up in Houston, it snowed once maybe every five years, if that. It was the sort of thing that was a really big deal, but really meant that the snow we got turned to slush halfway to the ground. Since I’ve lived in North Texas it happens more often, but it’s still not anything to really be impressed by if you’re from an area that actually sees snow. Still, it’s something to behold and I still love it. I stand outside a bit and watch it come down and let my mind wander here and there. I go from contemplating my rant last night on magic to wondering about the things I need to get done tomorrow to how Cassie’s doing. I float around cycles of thought that spin into theories, ideas and philosophies and return to simply staring at the snow. If nothing more in my life, I thank the gods the most for allowing me the ability to maintain a concept of simplicity and the appreciation for it, even if I sometimes lose it. I sat up talking about magic with my son – we spend a lot of time talking after his sister crashes out ever since my marriage split apart and he started staying weekends with me. My daughter and I have fairy tales and imagination time and art, my son and I have philosophy. But both of them have Shel Silverstein, as I did when I was young…so here’s one you should pay attention to, because maybe you read it when you were a kid and forgot how to get back:
Where The Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
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