"Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away."
I had one of these moments last night. It may seem small to some but to me, it was a moment I want to remember.
By the end of the Minnesota February day of snowing, the ground was covered with 4 inches of heavy, wet snow with big white blobs of snow plopping down from the sky. I left work at 4:30 p.m. to make the 30 mile trek home. I knew it was going to be interesting when my co-worker said her husband had called and said there were a few accidents down the road including a semi in the ditch. It was confirmed when I saw the slushy tracks in the snow by others that had already left the parking lot for the day. Having spent many years driving in Minnesota winters, you learn a few things along the way. Slush is unforgiving and can pull you in any direction it chooses. If possible, it's best to stay in tracks made by someone else and go slow. I took the back roads home because of the heavy semi-truck traffic on the main highways. They are much braver than I in these road conditions and I'd rather play it safe and slow.
I scraped the wet snow off the car windows, plugged in the iTrip and iPod and resumed listening to the riveting audiobook "The Hunger Games." I trudged along listening to my story at a whopping 30 mph. No one else was on the back county roads so I was comfortable going at my own pace. As I got closer to home, the snow was thinning and the blobs coming down thinned and eventually, after crossing the river, turned into a misty rain on the windshield. I'm sure the cars I passed heading in the direction I came from were wondering what they were in for when they saw the piles of snow on top of my Jeep. I pulled into the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief. I secretly hoped it would snow the rest of the night and tomorrow would be an at-home snow day.
I walked into the house, took off my shoes and coat. Rico, our German Shepherd greeted me with his usual laid back ears and wagging tail while leaning on my legs waiting for my hello rubs and scratches. I found the hubby laying down on the bed waking up from a nap. I layed down beside him and asked him, "How was your day?" He is the maintenance supervisor at the nursing home a block up the street and I enjoy his stories of good encounters with residents and co-workers. He replied with, "Same old, same old and busy." I prodded a little further and asked him "But what was the highlight of your day?" And without a moment of hesitation he looked at me and said, "When you came home." That was my moment. I look forward to many more years with moments that take my breath away with the man I love.