The phone rings at 6 a.m.
My children are still in their beds, unaware that the day ahead is theirs to play with as as they wish.
The surprise is not mine. The seed for this day was planted in the forecasts. The talk of teachers.
I drive to work, nearly alone on the roads, missing the snow angels they will make and the snow forts they will build.
Childish things, perhaps, and still the road ahead seems so empty ... as if I'm on of the few who missed a gift that fell from the sky overnight.