It’s one of those blustery days—the kind where the wind whistles around the corners of the house and rattles the windows. I know for some people, windy days feel messy or unpredictable. But for me? I absolutely love them. There’s something about the way the world feels alive, even a little chaotic, while I’m wrapped up safe and warm inside. It makes me want to grab a blanket, light a candle, and just be.
And isn’t that something we all crave from time to time? A moment to pause, to breathe, to remember that it’s okay to slow down.
Windy days always pull me into a space of memory—back to when my boys were little and the world felt so much smaller and simpler. On days like this, we’d stay in our pajamas longer than we should, make popcorn even if it was still morning, and curl up together on the couch to watch Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. Something about that gentle storytelling, the fluttering leaves in the Hundred Acre Wood, and sweet little Piglet being swept away in the wind—it all just fit.
I didn’t realize back then how sacred those moments were. I mean, I knew they were special—I was soaking them in the best I could—but I don’t think I fully understood how deeply I’d long for them someday. The way my boys would nestle in close, how their laughter would echo through the living room, how we didn’t need anything fancy to feel completely content. Just each other, a cozy space, and maybe a silly old bear who loved honey a little too much.
Now that they’re older—some out making their own lives, some navigating that messy in-between space of becoming—I sometimes catch myself wondering if they remember those blustery days the same way I do. Do they still hear that familiar theme song in their heads when the wind kicks up? Do they feel a tug of comfort and nostalgia when the world outside gets loud, and inside feels quiet?
Maybe they do. Or maybe they will someday, when they’re chasing after their own little ones and find themselves reaching for the stories that brought them comfort.
If you’re in a season where life feels loud and fast, I hope you find your own version of a blustery day—whatever that means for you. Maybe it’s a memory that catches you off guard and wraps itself around your heart. Maybe it’s a quiet afternoon that reminds you how much beauty lives in the ordinary.
For me, it’s today. A little bit windy, a little bit sentimental, and a whole lot grateful.
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