I start to head upstairs to get the Boy to put his guitar away and get to bed when I look down and see he didn’t clean up his cars. I nudge the boxes out of the main walkway and head upstairs, thinking that there will come a time that do something like that — push his toys out of the way — for the last time, and I likely won’t even know it when it happens.

When the Boy finally gets into bed, I lie down with him to snuggle a little. He’s been putting himself to bed lately, and a couple of nights ago, it broke my heart when I realized that he’d gone to bed without even getting a goodnight from anyone. The day will come, I know, when he’ll be too big for a cuddle like that. There will be no more plaintive requests to “rub my back, please!” Those days kind of slipped by with the Girl — she was suddenly just getting herself to bed without a single minute of reading or cuddling, and now they’re long in the past.

As the Boy gets his bedtime music going — a mix of softer Beatles songs — “Let It Be” comes on.

“Hold on!” I cry, grabbing his phone to load the album itself. We’ve been watching Get Back this weekend, a little here, a little there, and like most fans, I’ve found it fascinating to watch the songs evolve from little snippets to the masterpieces we grew up listening to. It doesn’t have as much of an impact on everyone else in the family because they don’t know the songs as well as I do, so it occurred to me that they should at least listen to Let It Be a few times as we watch over the next little bit.

As I’m lying there with him, “Across the Universe” comes on.

It is, without a doubt, far and away my favorite Beatles song. Not even a close contest to any other song, in my top 5 all-time favorite songs. Period. As perfect a song as ever created.

Suddenly I’m transported back to the late eighties, sitting in my best friend’s basement listening to records, when he puts on Let It Be. The first two tracks are great because, well, it’s the Beatles — and then “Across the Universe” comes on, and I’m flattened. From the first time I hear the opening chiming guitar I know it’s going to be a favorite song for the rest of my life.

Those magical days listening to music and eventually playing music with a guy I still and will always consider my best friend are now over thirty years ago. My daughter is the age we were; his children are all older than we were.

It’s a constant theme in my thoughts and writing, I know — how quickly time passes, the transitory nature of it all — but it comes into sharper focus today, the second of our snow days here in the south. Snow is so rare and rarified here in the south that each day with snow on the ground sparkles like the snow itself does when clouds pass and the sun begins melting it all.

“Nothing’s going to change my world,” John sings in the chorus “Across the Universe,” and the key to maintaining that attitude must be the skill of living in the moment and not worrying that it’s going to pass before we really realize what it’s worth. It’s pushing that box of toys out of the way with a certain tenderness at the thought that it won’t always be in the way instead frustration that the kid left the toys out yet again. It’s treating the quirkiness of teen behavior with patience and tenderness because even those frustrating moments will haunt us once they’re gone.

And of course, it means going out to play in the snow as often as possible when you’re in the south.

Addendum

January 17 must be the magical day for snow here in the south. We had a snow day on that date in 2008

and then again ten years later!

We never know when we’ll get snow here in South Carolina. We once went several years without much more than a little flurry that melted the instant it touched the ground, so when we do have snow, we have to make the most of it. We have to get out into it, feel it, hear it (if it’s mixed with ice crystals, which it often is here).

So last night, with dinner done and the kitchen cleaned up, we all took the dog for a walk in the snow. Unfortunately, the snow was mixed with rain, and what lay about the road was a slushy mix that got everyone wet almost immediately. K and the kids turned back quickly; I went with the dog for another mile or so.

Today proved to be better. It was supposed to stay below freezing all night, and there was a forecast for continued snow throughout the morning. And fall it did — big fluffy flakes that floated down delicately that would then transform to smaller flakes that fell quickly. Back and forth between the two forms of snow throughout the morning.

But the kids begin still sick, we were reticent to let them out. The Boy and I decided to play a bit of chess. He’s learning piece by piece. For a few weeks, we played only with pawns until he got the hang of their basic nuance. Then we added bishops — after all, they move in a way similar to how pawns attack. Then rooks. Finally, knights. We spent several evenings just practicing how knights moved.

“Daddy, can we play with rooks, bishops, and knights now?” he asked this morning, and so we went for it.

“Are you sure you want to move there?” became my mantra. Occasionally, he would look and reconsider.

“Oh, no! You can take me there!”

“But can you take me back?”

And so we played. I made purposefully stupid moves for him to take advantage of, but I made a little rule for myself: if he didn’t reconsider his move after I suggested it, I would take the piece, so in the end, I won. (The aim in king-less/queen-less chess? Get one pawn to the other end of the board so that it can’t be taken. It’s how I teach my students at schoool as well.)

Still the snow fell — but almost none of it was sticking to the roads, which were wet and relatively warm.

“Maybe we’ll have a snow day Monday!” L pondered.

“Likely not.”

Still, we have a large district, and we have had snow days when there’s not a flake on the ground here because of what was going on in the northernmost edges of the district.