This afternoon, it was gray and snowing lightly. It was strangely quiet for the middle of the city and the only sound came from our boots scuffing the sidewalk as we made our way to the park to skate. I said, "It's beautiful," which is not something I've said too often in recent weeks because the snow and cold have become hard to bear. Zeca said, "It's pretty in that way the snow is at Christmas."
And that was it. Exactly.
Once at the park, I took the sidewalks while my kids trudged through the deep snow, talking to each other. I wondered what they were saying but was content to watch them from a distance - two kids in dark blue jackets, side by side, marching through the snow. Zeca fell at one point and Miguel waited as she got back up and then they continued on.
We met up again at the ice house at the edge of the lake, changed into our skates and hit the ice. The kids skated together and I snapped pictures.
Friends joined us and we skated in circles around the island with an occasional high five or a hug from a passing kid. It was a perfect afternoon and, on days like today, I think Minnesota and I understand each other perfectly.