Taken from our driveway:
Winter, bring it on. I’m ready for you. Over the years you haven’t been easy to live with, here in Utah. Remember my 8th birthday party, three days before Christmas? Your flurries morphed into a blizzard in record time. Only ONE PERSON out of 12 showed up at my party. And how about that time in the 9th grade, when I was walking to school? Remember? You were coming down so fast and furious that a SCHOOL BUS stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride. That was in junior high, Old Man–my budding teenage years. I was mortified. But I took that ride, climbing onto a bus full of snickering faces. Aw, man. Still haven’t lived that one down.
I’ll tell you what though, winter. This year, I’ve got a secret weapon to make you bearable. A three-year old. This year, I won’t focus on heating bills, shoveling, or discovering how many sweaters I can wear and still move my arms. Instead, my attention will bounce back to a three-year old state of mind. Snowmen, snow angels, snowballs, snow forts. Watching long lines of little footprints appear as we crunch down the sidewalk. Stomping snow off moon boots on the front porch. Sipping hot chocolate with extra-extra mini marshmallows. And my favorite–watching you silently fall onto the deck in big, fat flakes.
So come on down that mountain, winter. I know, we’ve had our riffs. But this year I say . . . glad you could make it. Stay a while. Just don’t wear out your welcome.