I opened the door this morning to see several inches of snow. And it’s still snowing. Feeling like a kid, I decided to suit up and go out to play in this winter wonderland. I ran downstairs to gather my never before used cold weather gear. As I waddle back up the stairs, I begin to remember the snowy days of my childhood in Kansas. The snow, so white, so beautiful. Sledding down the little hill in the backyard using trash bags, cardboard, real sleds and saucers (yes, saucers). We made snow angels and snowmen, snow forts and snowballs.
I opened the door and stepped out into the cold with gleeful anticipation. And then it hit me. Some things never change. The attire had changed somewhat, I no longer had the head to ankle snowsuit over layers of clothing, or the bread wrapper encased feet shoved into too tight snowboots, mittens, hat, and a scarf around my face. Now I wore layers of clothing under a North Face winter coat, gloves, hat, a scarf around my face, and with my pants tucked into waterproof camouflage hunting boots. But, as soon as I stepped out the door … I had to pee.
Too bad. No way was I going to take one item off of my body and go back inside. Just as when I was 6 years old, at 56 I would have to be a big girl and deal with it. So, off I went! I tried to build a snowman, but the snow was too powdery and wouldn’t stick together. There was no way I was going to lay down in the snow to make an angel. There was nobody with whom to build a fort or throw snowballs. So, I settled for walking around, kicking snow, catching a flake on my tongue and just enjoying the quiet.
I went back inside after practically stripping down on the porch. I had forgotten that one doesn’t just walk back indoors without first removing all the wet clothing and boots. I think this is why one must have hot chocolate with marshmallows after playing in the snow. It is a magic elixir that makes one forget about any discomforts and allows room in your memory for only the joy.
It’s still snowing.