>Today I spent some time looking out the back window at my back yard. I love how it looks this time of year. There’s snow everywhere, and since no one goes back there in the winter, it is undisturbed. Smooth, sparkling and bright – the only blemishes are the bunny tracks that barely break through the surface. Even still, it seems perfect. It’s a beautiful sunny day today, and the snow glitters like an old lady’s sequined dress.
I was torn away from my little moment of bliss when I heard the butter in the frying pan start to spatter. I forgot that I had turned it on, and quickly looked to see if it was making a mess. I started to walk towards the stove, but the sun from outside had completely blinded me. I kept walking towards the stove, waiting for my eyes to adjust. They eventually did, and I got to making my potato pancakes (I’m rather horrible at this – it was more of a mound of potato than a pancake), but for some reason, this whole sequence of events really struck me.
I think I’ve been spending too much time staring off into perfection. It’s blissful and serene, and although there is nothing wrong with that, the problem arises when I need to look away. I’ve have been blinded by everything really good, when actual reality is behind me, spattering away in a pan. As much as I want to stay and stare at the snow, I know I can’t ignore what is actually happening. I have to turn around, wait for those brief, kind of painful moments for my eyes to adjust, and get making my potato pancakes. Even if they do turn out to be a messy pile of potato.