snow day
on snow and being alive
we venture out the day after the storm—emerging from the safety and warmth of our home. we kept telling each other that we needed to go outside, to see the sun and feel the crisp air on balmy faces. we walk to the pond to meet friends and on our way we pass a hill full of kids sledding. down and up and down and up again. we finally find our friends and they have brought plastic bin lids with them. we huff and kick ourselves for not thinking of that. together we find a hill that someone else has sledded down before us, and we follow their trails, grateful that they did the work to pack down the powdery snow. we find a sled trail with a jump in it and a few of us try that. i have the most success, but end up upside down with my feet in the air. we brush the snow off our jeans and our backs. we find an untouched patch of snow and make snow angels. leaving our mark—it is no longer untouched snow. on our walk back we talk of pizza and hot chocolate and hot showers. we make a plan to reconvene later. after parting with our friends, we make the brief journey back to our safe haven. we stomp our boots to knock the snow off and once inside, i immediately change my clothes. i find my way to the corner of the couch and curl myself into a ball. i still feel the rosiness in my cheeks and the memory of the wind in my eyes. i feel alive.