I used to love winter. Loved skating on the neighbor’s pond, loved trekking for miles on cross-country skis, and loved flying like a maniac down barely-groomed mountain trails. It was exhilarating! Fun! Death-defying at times (mostly because we lived in an area where the concept of hunting season was just a suggestion, and we wore a lot of dark coats and hand-knit white mittens).
Wait. Mom? Could I speak to you about those mittens, please?
My love of winter went into a long fade as ticket prices skyrocketed and snowfall amounts declined. And somewhere along the line, I gained this fear thing that was totally unfamiliar. I could break something, I realized. Like … me. And then where would we be? I’d still have to do all the things I do now … but do them with a broken leg/hip/spine/head.
Maybe all of the above.
But then my kiddos got old enough to discover winter. And they love it. They are happy to sled for hours on the little mountain of snow we build beside the driveway. They’ll strap on skates and bumble around the teeny-tiny pond we have in the backyard. They now know how to make snowballs and snow forts and snow angels, and they fully appreciate a mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows afterward.
Watching them love winter has rekindled my love for the season. Now, whenever it snows, they race through dinner, hoping to be the first ones outside so they can trek up and down the street lobbing snowballs at the houses with kids in them. And before long, our street is filled with flying snowballs, laughing children, and grown-ups acting nothing like grown-ups.
Maybe that’s the key. Grown-up-ness is highly-overrated sometimes.
That and white mittens.
How about you? What little things do YOU do to recapture your youthful spirit? Are you a winter lover? Winter hater? Winter escaper?