I collect music boxes and many in my collection are snow globes. Those in my collection hold little tiny pieces of sentiment. I have one that holds a snowmen, one a mother and a child, another a father and daughter dancing a waltz, another of a ballerina in toe shoes, another an ice skater on a frozen pond, and one simply a butterfly. One is a city landscape, and one is a cabin in the woods. Others are scenes from favorite movies, and others seem to have no reason. Each one individually is special but if you put them all together, they are tiny little pieces of my life. Each one is special.
Looking at them sitting on the shelf they are pretty. If you turn them upside down to swirl the snow, something magical happens and watching the snow puts my heart at ease.
Christmas morning I took my dogs for a walk in the woods. It was quiet. Silence surrounded me except for the squeaking of the snow beneath my boots as I walked. And the occasional jingling of the dog tags of my companions. And then it started to snow. A flake here and there. As I continued walking in the comfort of the quiet the snow picked up — big fluffy flakes that seemed to sometimes gently swirl.
I stopped and the dogs stopped. We just listened to the silence. And enjoyed a moment in a Christmas morning snow globe of our very own.
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