Sparkles on the ceiling. Afternoon winter light gets me every time. It’s so different than the summertime. I don’t know what it is about it that makes me so nostalgic.
The other night was a perfect storm. We were watching Planet Earth and all sitting amazed at the areal shots of the animals. First it was birds, millions, and then there was a gigantic herd of caribou migrating with their little ones. The girls were slack-jawed, staring.
I popped into the kitchen and whispered to Ryan that maybe this wasn’t one of those predator/prey shows and how lucky we were to dodge an emotionally charged bullet.
And then, immediately after saying that, it cut to the wolves.
Then back to the caribou.
Then to the wolves again.
Suddenly a small baby caribou was chased by a wolf. My eyes darted between the screen and the girls, but I couldn’t change the channel because the narrator would say things like, “The caribou can outlast a wolf.” and “He still has a chance.” So I watched with my heart pounding, begging the baby to run. And when the wolf closed in a little, I heard the girls make this long high-pitched squeal.
“As long as the caribou doesn’t make a mistake, the wolf will stop after a mile.” So I yelled to keep watching because the caribou hasn’t made a mistake yet, can’t you see girls?! The baby is gonna win!! [Because, really, why would the narrator set us up like that.]
And then the dreaded mistake.
Oh my gosh, how the girls cried. Later that night, after Ryan read books, I heard them talking long afterwards. Almost an extra hour of talking. When he came out, he said they had many questions about death and heaven and he laid in bed trying his best to answer it all. Gertie was curled up, awake, listening too.