one safe place

My brother's whimsical front door

Early this morning I stepped outside and for the first time in a long time felt the cold rip through my skin and rattle my bones. We made hot coffee, hot chocolate, wore footed jammies and crowded in close around the book we are reading about Incans, Aztecs and Mayans. Later on, after the sun had warmed our yard enough to play in long sleeved shirts and jackets you gathered sticks, berries and leaves and built houses for the fairies, those poor vagrant Hoosier fairies who have been traveling and never resting but now, thanks to you, have a place to lay their heads. Look, I know I can't protect you from every winter, from every storm but neither am I required to watch on idly, throw my hands up in defeat, declaring exposure to elements cruel, superficial, and wholly distracting from all that is innocent, good, authentically beautiful and righteous as just an unfortunate fact of your life as a kid growing up in this enlightened day and age. They can call me naive, say I'm overprotective, claim you risk ostracization by your ignorance of trends culturally relevant but I don't care. I'll stand guard at the gates of our fortress on the lookout for trojan horses containing dangers concealed in pretty packaging and, God help me, I will not let them in. I'll do whatever it takes, whatever I can, to keep you thinking for yourselves, free from pressure to conform ... safe.