Beautiful.

Last night my daughters danced to the song, “You’re beautiful... ” in our living room. Em’s hair was still wet from the shower, so it flopped in pale strands on her shoulders as she whirled around. We’d lit candles and a fire to celebrate the first real snow of the season, and all of those separate lights - the fire, the flickering candles, and the drifting glints outside, worked together to create a soft brilliance inside. Two girls in their pajamas, dancing. Two parents slumped against each other in a rare beat of contented stillness.

Snow is free. The children had drawn kids from the neighborhood over with their joyful bellowing, and for a long time - long enough to become raw with chill, they played outside. Now they were back inside, showered and warm, and the light felt instructive. I saw Anna for the first time as she is today, more distinguished than ever, radiant and growing into her body. There is a hint of self-consciousness in her gaze, but it is nevertheless steady. Fixed on Em, who has asked her to dance. She is intent on the music, the beat pumping her small body up. I hadn’t realized how much she adored her older sister (the realization derailed some how by her near constant brow-beating and freakishly loud protests of wrong-doing).

We slumped into each other. They danced until one of them took the wrong turn and busted up the choreography and blew the whole thing and they couldn’t start the song over because that would wreck it, too and they might as well give up all together and it was too her fault and. We put up a card table in silent response. A make shift square in front of the fire. Us vs. Them. They decided. Bridge. I don’t remember who won.

But I remember the night. It was beautiful.