Yesterday, as the snow fell in Colorado, the sun was shining outside our AZ windows. The weather was a pleasant 74 degrees, and my friend and I even felt a tad chilly as we shared a bottle of wine on the patio of a favorite Italian restaurant yesterday afternoon. Admittedly, a glass or two of red wine warmed us up.

And we kept abreast of our Colorado families’ weather condition. As the afternoon progressed, the snow kept falling in Colorado and so did the temperatures. While we sipped our wine, she got a video featuring her little 2-1/2 year old twin granddaughters waving to their daddy as he shoveled the snow. Hi Daddy, they shouted to him. Cheers, we said to one another. Because we were in AZ wearing sandals and capris. And feeling sorry for our loved ones who were shoveling snow.

The schools in Denver and its suburbs closed early yesterday, and it won’t surprise me if they are closed altogether today. While I don’t miss the cold and snow, I do think fondly about those winter days when you are snug and warm inside your house with a pot of beef stew simmering cheerfully on your stove. But my fond memories fade as I think about how someone has to go out into that cold and snow and shovel. I don’t even let myself think about driving on those icy streets. After all, it’s MY daydream, and it doesn’t include shoveling or driving.

I remember when I was in elementary school and the snow would start falling. Man, how I prayed that it would fall all night long, thereby giving us a chance for a snow day. Snow days are better than regular days off because they are so unexpected. We would rise early and turn on the television. We would sit three feet from the screen, watching with hopeful hearts as the school and business closures rolled across the screen. When the names beginning with S started showing up, our hopes soared.

And there it was! St. Bonaventure Grade School is closed! We could stay in our pajamas all day. Life was good. I wonder if there is the same level of excitement when instead of watching the names roll across a screen, you just click on a link. It seems to lose something, doesn’t it? Instant gratification can’t match the joy of waiting to be grateful.