This has been the longest seige of snow in what seems like forever. Although snow is beautiful, glistening and it covers up things we'd rather not see, it has its own treachery which at times we all fall victim to. When I was young I loved being outside in the snow; in fact, I couldn't get enough of it. I remember coming inside my house with frozen gloved hands and shaking from the cold. But after a short time, I'd go right back out in it again. There were the usual snowball fights with neighborhood kids, the building of a snowman that usually look deformed but gave us satisfaction, sled riding and trudging back up a hill and the drinking of hot chocolate that warmed us inside. And we'd beg for more.
Into my teenage and young adult years, I still had no hesitation about going out in the snow only I became much more risky. Lots of us would sit on a huge piece of cardboard [that came from a box that held a refrigerator/ heaven knows who got it or where] and go to the top of the highest and snowiest hill we could find and slide down into oblivion. Lots of us fell off of that cardboard and went sprawling everywhere but it was so much fun! When I got married and later had two sons, I remember well taking them up a hill and we'd sit on garbage bags and slide down a neighbor's steep yard--much to his or her disdain. Later on my sons had their own friends to go out in the snow with and my friends and I would still use a garbage bag and slide just for the thrill. Age changes a lot about a person's attitude and how one deals with risk: It's the thinking about how you'd get hurt or whatever that put a damper on what you would do. So many times I slid down my hill to go to work and I was not in a car: I was attempting to walk. And that didn't work. Now at my current time I have developed a fear of snow: I'm afraid of falling, sliding and breaking a body part. Afraid of driving in it although I used to do it all the time. On my part, I'd much rather just go outside and look at the beautiful snow and come back inside. Oh I could be tempted to make a snow angel like I used to do; in fact, I dared a friend of mine to do just that and she did! And she emailed me pictures for proof! Sometimes I feel like Erma Bombeck who wrote about skiing: She said she didn't care for any sport that had an ambulance waiting at the bottom of the hill. Other times, I want to be risky and do what I did when I was young. It is a matter of mindset after all. Or is it? Meanwhile, I will be watching the neverending snow and keep mulling over my mixed feelings. But I could be dared you know!