A memory of snow

One week ago, I dropped Calista off at the church for Primary Activities and then headed to the nearby mall to hang out with 3 other moms. We had a blast, eating ice cream, laughing, and loudly disparaging the recurring fashions from our youth we found on display again in the department stores. When we got back to the church, we found that the girls had ended a little early. Calista was ready to go, but before we left, she wanted to go outside and watch the snow fall.
It was a lovely, perfect, fluffy snowfall, with huge flakes that just begged to be caught on your tongue. Of course, Calista couldn't ignore the invitation, and started jumping around, tongue out, in a mission to catch the perfect flake. I watched her from inside for a while, amused. And then I decided to go out and tell her it was time to go: it was already bedtime.
As I asked her if she was ready, she said, "Not quite. In a minute." And, in that moment, I did something I'm rather proud of: I didn't rush her home, but instead I waited outside with her, watching her catch snowflakes.

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself looking up at the snowflakes, unable to resist the urge to catch them myself. 10 minutes went by, as other parents came into the church, and left again, watching us incredulously. We caught, and missed, countless snowflakes, until our faces and hair were soaking wet. We laughed and loved and then, finally, we really did leave.
On the drive home, I said to Calista, "Thank you. Thank you for letting me catch snowflakes with you. It is a memory I want to keep forever." It was, by far, the best part of my day.