They say the snow may be ice instead. A report from my granddaughter told me that the check out lines at the grocery are long.
The child in me said, “It isn’t extra batteries or a loaf of bread that matters.” It’s getting out my sled and finding my figure skates buried in my past ‘growing up’ years. In those years, you could rely on winter snow falls, and park districts making and freezing skating ponds.
I lived on the corner of Asbury Ave and Lyons Street in Evanston, Il. Lyons was a wonderful hill for sledding. The forecast for snow was good news.
Sometimes, if I am able to grow quiet, I can hear car wheels spinning as they try to make it up the hill.
Of course, we had winter clothing, ski pants and jacket, mittens, wool caps, knitted scarfs and double pairs of socks and boots. Do you know what a hand warmer is?
I suppose it was going off to college in Lexington, Kentucky that broke the childhood cycle of snow, ice skating, and flopping on a sled. I do remember that sled leaning against the garage wall, but when it was gone, it went unnoticed by its childhood rider.
As we await our weather, hoping for the best, I am grateful to have memories of sledding down the hill, and cold toes, and tired ankles from ice skating. For warmth from a pot stove in the skating hut.
Stay warm and safe. If we are all indoors this weekend, I hope you return to memories of childhood winters with those you played with, and those who loved you, calling out, “Don’t forget your gloves.”
Main Street Rocky Mount 