This winter has been unique for our family in so many ways. We are in a new place, dealing with problems we've never had before that come with renting an apartment in an old building. We are isolated in so many ways in spite of being closer in proximity to many people. In spite of all this, most days don't find me lonely. My family can't live like this forever, but I highly recommend living like this for a while.
Sophia has always had a little trouble sleeping, more at some times than others. Over all, she's actually done great here. However, with the noise of the radiators in the early morning, she's been spending most early mornings in bed with us. The other challenge is that she ends up really tired after an early morning. But if she takes a nap, the possibility of her going to sleep in her own bed is almost non-existent. Anyway, all that to say we spend a lot of time "co-sleeping."
One night this weekend, after our trip to Columbia, we all went to bed at the same time. Sophia's face was pale and relaxed in the light of the streetlight outside our window. Erick on her other side already settled in for the night. And all of the sudden, my heart hurt. This is a feeling that I've tried to describe before. It happens when I feel so full of emotion that my heart actually groans under the weight. Maybe it's a brief growing pain. My heart must adjust to allow for the surge of contentment and gratitude.
I will probably always look back on this winter as the season of snuggling. The snow has helped with that, too. We have been out often and had some great visits around, but the all too frequent snow storms have kept us at home more than we normally would. Sophia and I have spent so much time snuggling to watch a movie or read a book or even just chat that I have come to appreciate the snow. I know that even though I am content and, judging by Sophia's sweet smile when she looks up from my lap, she too is happy with our seclusion, we will need to venture out of this cozy place sooner or later. For now, I'll just enjoy the weight of my groaning heart.