He wasn’t sure what had awakened him. Perhaps the child had made some small noise in her sleep. But as he peeked from beneath the covers, his gaze was drawn not to the cradle but to the window.
It was then that he realized what had sneaked through the shield of his slumbers. It was the sense of falling snow.
Quietly, so as not to disturb the child’s mother, he rose from the bed and inched toward the cradle. Reaching down, he gently lifted the warm bundle to his shoulder. Then, as he tip-toed from the bedroom, she lifted her head, opened her eyes and—daily dose of magic—smiled up at her dad.
He carried her downstairs, counting the creaks on the way. Together, they settled in at the kitchen table, and the adult in him slipped away. Two children now, they pressed their noses against the glass.