breath of fresh air

My husband and I spend Thanksgiving with his father and step-mother in central New York. We debate about canceling our trip due to our recent loss but decide that maybe a change of scenery and a breath of fresh air is just what we need. And fresh air is what we get.

Things in central New York always seem to be a little bit colder, a little bit quieter, a little bit slower. His father lives in a cabin-transformed-into-house on the top of a hill in the woods overlooking the mountains. The bed we sleep in has sheets so worn you can almost see through them. Its covered with a mismatch of at least 5 hand-made quilts and big goose-down blankets. A bear-skinned rug lies at the foot of the bed. I always sleep late in central New York.

And then there is Nicholas, my husband's brother's son. He is 3 1/2 and filled with nothing but love, joy, kindness and affection. I won't get into his parenting situation or the details of his home life. I'll just put it this way -- his good nature is nothing short of miracle and he is the absolute light of my in-laws' lives. He is the light of my husband's life too.

He spends the night with us at his grandma and papa's house. In my lazy sleep-in morning, I am awakened when Nicholas sneaks into our room and crawls into bed with me and my husband. He gets right up under those cozy covers, cuddles right in between us and pretends to sleep. A tiny little giggle escapes him. In this moment my heart sings. And it breaks. I love this moment. I want this moment. Only I want it with our own child.

Later we take Nicholas for a walk in the woods. He loves the crunching of the snow beneath his feet and the icy water of the lake. He loves the stones, the birds, the fresh air. He loves the outdoors. He is like his uncle. I watch the two of them and thank God for this day. I thank God for the father my husband will be. I recognize the miracle in Nicholas and I pray for our own.