Season of Hope

I woke up this morning to the usual sounds of Madre making breakfast in the kitchen.

"Too early," I thought as I rolled over and readjusted my pillow.

I did not want to get out of my toasty bed. Not one little bit.

Winter was here. And with it, my natural inclination to hibernate till Christmas morning.

Dad came in to ask if I was riding with him to school.

My response, "I'm debating between sleeping in or working out."

As a solution to my inner-turmoil, Dad pulled the covers away.

He's big into exercise and fitness.

I whimpered a little at the rush of cold air.

Then, I told myself that he was right and reluctantly began to gather my things.

We drove on the slippery roads to school in a winter wonderland,

And reverently, commented on the fresh blanket of snow covering the trees,

"Magnificent."

I craved Christmas. The family part. The school-less part.

I closed my eyes real tight and took in a deep breath as the heater kicked in.

Pavarotti sang "Nessun Dorma" over the speakers.

Dad loves "Nessun Dorma"

Me too.

It reminds me of Italy. I sure like that place.

The entrance of the new season made my heart come alive and it seemed to sing along,

"...di speranza"

Dad dropped me off and I went about my regular exercise routine.

Finding a treadmill without a fan.

Finding a TV that wasn't playing sports.

Then, I thumbed through my ipod,

And rather than selecting my usual upbeat playlist, I flipped past it

And pushed 'Play' when I came to Puccini

"...di speranza"

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