Friday, March 2, 2007
In the Beginning...
It is all of 16 degrees Fahrenheit. My daughter, the one who frolicked away an hour in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan, is Haitian. It has only been 3-and-half years since she cried inconsolably through her first winter, screaming each time snow touched her body.
As we skip back to our apartment, cold and wet on this February afternoon, I breathe in the frosty air and thank God for our new home. As both a multi-cultural family and homeschoolers, it had become evident that we needed to find a home more condusive to our particular needs. That is my polite way of declaring that we needed to live in a more diverse area than the far northern suburbs -- where we had lived as a family from the time we brought Rhubarb and Eggplant home (when they were 38 months and 21 months respectively) until last month.
We now live just outside of Chicago proper (along with the little sister, Blueberry, who magically appeared 11 months after Rhubarb and Eggplant turned us into parents). Somehow all the stars aligned and we not only benefit from the rich diversity and unprecedented cultural offerings of both our town and Chicago (which is just a few blocks from us), but we lucked into a fabulous apartment pretty much on top of the beach. Our front picture window overlooks Lake Michigan.
So far this winter, we have enjoyed our morning reading time snuggled up in front of the lake (in our apartment, of course, though that will surely change once warmth arrives), practiced violin while watching storm waves crash along the snowy shore, learned multiplication by twos by dreaming of doubling our finds of sand glass and shells, and discovered more about the incredible effects of lake snow than we ever thought existed.