The Snow

Yesterday it snowed a little, today it snowed a lot. And there is more on the way, or so they say. The snow makes me think about home, and growing up. When I was little I was filled with the most intense joy as the first flakes fell. And then six months later the same joy returned when the snow began to melt. Now I find that the joy only comes once a year, and it's not when the snow falls. I remember being eight years old and jumping into the snow banks, void of inhibitions. I was free. I used to imagine that I was a snow flake. Light and fluffy, and very fragile. diving head first into the snow bank. Suddenly I am filled with a desire to embody my eight year old self and dive into the snow bank, but my inhibitions stop me. There are things that are appropriate for small children to do and there are things that appropriate for young ladies to do. Diving into a snow bank out of joy is not one of them. I need to think of a good reason. Maybe I will drop something into the snow, and then go in after it. Ah, maybe I will walk too close to someone and then pretend, when I fall into the snow bank, that they pushed me... I could always take a leaf out of my eight year old book and free myself from my inhibitions and jump in. Without a reason. Without a reason other then pure joy.