Is the on-slot of spring and the anticipation of summer getting you down. Is the sun above warming you sending you into snowboarding withdrawals. Then go south young one…I don’t mean Florida where the only thing white is the hair on the heads of 90% of the male population…of the entire state. I truly mean go south….cross the border…cross the equator…head to Patagonia and head to the Andes. Now that you’re there, dressed like the Michelin Man to keep warm, I shall leave you to your own demise…I leave you to the snow that glistens in the moon light as it floats gently down…falling to create a blanket of white that sparkles like diamonds in the velvet of the night. Like soft childhood memories of standing in the front yard of 3106 Deal Street, where children dressed like Eskimos played Duck-Duck-Goose. And when it was time to go inside because it was a school night one child stood watching…watching the snow fall in the moonlight like dreams carried on the gossamer wings of Tinkerbelles …making wishes of tomorrows filled with sleds, ice-skates and toboggan runs down mountains that would become merely hills in the too soon to come future. Like dreams of everlasting childhood…dreams of a place and time where troubles were nonexistent…times where mom hugged and kissed away sorrow and pain. Bills were paid by grownups who had forgotten how to enjoy the simple pleasures of life and food free-flowed from the refrigerator and oven and milk came “all the way from Safeway.”
Oh for the days when worries were meant for grownups and the fear of unpaid bills and the taxman were not known. Snowballs were the only thing thrown at the PRETEND combatant from the next kingdom over. And…and when the battle was over the reverie that we would partake in over hot chocolate and gram crackers would heal any and every disagreement of the snow war that just took place. And…and the next day of school would be canceled because of the blizzard that had blessed the dreams and peaceful sleep of children and granted the wishes of a SNOW DAY!!!!
Sleds were ripped down from their moorings in the garage…hills were conquered…jumps were built and wet drippy noses were wiped, hot coco supplied by a loving mother and piles of wet clothing dried and replaced on bodies that doubled in size then waddled out the door to repeat the process.
Could this be where you are headed with such abandon and disregard for growing up? Could you be headed in to the past that the entire world is longing for…a past where peace and civility reigned with kindness and love? It’s no wonder that the next plane south is burdened down with dreams and snowboards and skates and sleds ripped unceremoniously from their places in the rafters in the garage.
Wait…wait for me…I don’t need much…just my Eskimo clothes and my imagination. I’ll be in the seat on the plane next to you…on the sled behind you and on the skating pond of dreams frozen in time, holding your hand making sure we are both safe from adulthood.
After all…maturity is overrated…let’s not grow up, even if we have to grow old.