Winter

The snow hits me in the face and what am I to do. It gathers there and forms small icicles as my breath warms it just enough to melt, drip and form another icicle on my chin.
My hands, slightly numb are alternating holding my notebook and having a moment of salvation within my coat pocket.
Legs moving, not only to get me there but also to help the blood from freezing and stopping movement entirely.
Wiggling of the toes helps me to realize that those piggies are still there, yet how much longer can they go?
So this is winter...
I have always loved it for some reason...
It does have some great qualities like snow days, ski hills, and a great cooler of drinks.
For some reason however it seems different this time around.
Maybe it is my fault...
Not taking advantage of all that it offers to me.
For instance I could right now be sliding down some hill towards pending doom or throwing icy projectiles at loud neighbours.
Or maybe its not my actions at all, but how I look at winter.
When I was a kid, the giant amount of snow on the driveway only meant that there would be a huge hill on my lawn to play with, or the freezing rain meant that I could slide down the sidewalk farther as I walked to school.
So thats just it...
When I step back out into the snow and the snow builds on my face I will make a snowball, and after I am done shovelling I will climb to the top of the mountain I have created and roll down it, and when my car slides into the curb I will laugh and say that was fun wasn't it.
This is winter.
Slater