Snowy Surprise

By Janeen Lewis

Snowy Surprise

I couldn’t sleep on the hard floor. So I lay awake listening to the rhythmic breathing of my husband and our two children while they slept. It was our last night in the only home we had known as a family. The home I moved to after Jesse and I married. The home we brought our children Andrew and Gracie to as newborns. Both children took their first steps on the living room floor where they slept.

Months before, we learned that Jesse had gotten a job near Atlanta. It was an opportunity for which he had waited years. We had visited Atlanta when Jesse applied for the job and were impressed with the many attractions it held, so unlike the rural town where we lived in Kentucky. We were in for a big change, giving up scenic drives full of cow fields and horse pastures for a city full of bright lights and high-rise buildings. We were leaving the roots we’d known our entire lives to move to a place where we didn’t know a soul.

It felt bittersweet, leaving family, friends and the church we had grown to love. But we promised to keep in touch through e-mail, Facebook and letters – Kentucky would only be a day’s drive away.

We focused on the positive. My children were thrilled at the prospect of living twenty minutes from the roller coasters at Six Flags Over Georgia. They loved the idea of being a few hours from the beach. I was excited about the longer growing season I would have for my flowers.

There was one thing that couldn’t be reconciled, however.


The children and I loved a snow deep enough to sink our boots into, one from which a sturdy snow man could be shaped easily. We enjoyed these snows in Kentucky, but they would be rare in the Deep South.

“How will we have snow ball fights?” six-year-old Andrew asked.

Three-year-old Gracie took it a little harder.

“How am I going to make snow angels?” Tears welled in her eyes.

I thought of my own favorite part of snowy weather – standing inside our cozy kitchen window drinking hazelnut coffee while I watched the flakes gently blanket our lawn.

Something about this was so peaceful.

“I’m going to miss it, too,” I said.

Nevertheless, we rented a house in Georgia, reserved a moving truck and I began to pack, planning our move for the last weekend in February. At that time of the year in Kentucky the weather can be unpredictable. Sometimes it’s like spring. Other times a winter storm can brew. I thought ruefully about Murphy’s Law, and how ironic it would be if we got one of our big snows the weekend of the move.

In the end, it was a leaky spigot that delayed us. When we unhooked the washer, the ancient spigot began to drip. By the time a plumber installed a new spigot, it was too late to begin the move. With everything we owned packed up in the moving truck, we slept on the living room floor with a few blankets and pillows intended for the trip, which led to my family asleep on the floor while I lay awake contemplating what a life-changing move we were making. Mostly I was excited, but I still felt a little apprehensive.

Moving day was beautiful, short-sleeve weather full of blue skies. After the kids and I yelled, “Goodbye house!” from my CRV one last time, we followed Jesse and the moving truck out of our neighborhood, and I shed a few tears. Would this move be all that we hoped?

Mild temperatures greeted us when we rolled into Georgia, and I looked forward to spring weather in a warmer climate. Our first week was a blur of busyness, but still, nagging thoughts crossed my mind. Would my children make friends soon? Would I make friends soon? I already missed my friends from home and as a stay-at-home mom I needed all the support I could get. I didn’t sleep trying to adjust to all the new creaks that came with a different house. And every time we saw a wreck in the busy traffic of the congested city, I worried about our safety.

I knew we were in the right place, and we were there for a purpose, but I needed some peace, some hope that we would adapt well to our new lives.

Then it got really cold. I didn’t pay much attention because cold without snow seemed pointless to me. At the end of our first week in Georgia, I awoke to the excited squeals of my children.

“Wait until Mom sees it!”

In my groggy state I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I could tell there was some kind of a commotion outside. I went to the window, and pulled back the blinds. I couldn’t believe what I saw.


Flakes cascaded slowly down, dusting the rooftops and the grass. I stood still and watched, silently, contentedly, as they fell.

Quietly, Jesse opened the bedroom door.

“Honey, it’s snowing!” He said.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s beautiful.” He returned to the children and left me in my reverie.

I’ll never forget that snowy morning. I believe it was a sign, a simple reassurance that my first home wasn’t so far away. And now I had a new home that wasn’t so different from the one I had left behind. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to see new places, meet new people and explore the city.

And that is exactly what my family and I did – as soon as it stopped snowing.

About this writer

  • Janeen LewisJaneen Lewis is a freelance journalist​, part-time STEM teacher and mother of two. When she isn’t spending time with her family, she loves writing about them.

You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.

2 Responses to “Snowy Surprise”

  1. Linda O'Connell says:

    Janeen, this was a lovely story, and the snow was certainly a gift from on high.

Leave your mark with style to Janeen Lewis

Comment in style

Stand out from the crowd and add some flare beside your comment.
Get your free Gravatar today!

Make it personal

avatar versus gravatar Close