My eyes fluttered open as the warm air from the ceiling vent gushed onto me. My sheer blue curtains exposed the white winter landscape which revealed the snow-coated fence. Immediately, I turned my head to my closet which held my bright pink snow pants and my heavy winter coat. Across the hall, I heard my sister fumbling with her gear as well, as if we telepathically shared the desire of stomping in the fresh blanket of snow. We both ran from our rooms, a huge smile stretching across my sister’s small round face. Light rushed through the living room, as the white landscape stood still behind the window.
As we crossed the barrier from our warm comforting home to the chill icy environment of the outside, the strong winds cut across our faces. The freshly plowed streets indicated that all of the night snow had been forced towards the brick wall at the end of our dead end street. An enormous mound of powder stretched from midway up the wall, to the ground. My sister and I trudged up the mound, as if we were soldiers rushing into battle. We lugged our sleds, prepared to glide down the steep slope. The sound of our giggles echoed through the small narrow street, expressing undeniable happiness.
Despite the cold and merciless December conditions, the adrenaline rushing through our blood kept us warm enough to continue. Our sleds left thick markings in the blinding white snow, as we followed the same path each time.
We finally rushed back into the house when we saw smoke leaking from the tall brick chimney. The desire for the warm flames became stronger than the urge to continue our escapade. Our mother handed us warm hot chocolate, which steamed up onto our chilled faces. Marshmallows danced in the liquid, sweetening the delicious concoction. We wrapped ourselves in blankets, shedding our wet layers of snow gear.
In the moment, I failed to realize the true significance of this sacred day. Looking back at these amazing snow adventures, I realize that these were the key elements of my amazing childhood. The beautiful layers of snow encouraged me to live in the moment. To cease my consistent worries and think only of when I can launch my next snowball . To live as the child that I had every right to be.
When I compare my eight-year-old self to eight years old's today, I see completely different people. Today I notice young children, completely oblivious to the world around them as they stare as computer screens. I see anxious children who think more about school work than their weekend adventures.
But in my harshest and most troubling moments, I close my eyes to bring myself back to the exact moment when I was waist deep in the soft and chilling snow. I imagine the bright smile which stretched across my face as I threw a compact ball of snow at my sister. I ignored the spreading chill on my uncovered hands and the purple color which extended onto my lips. I didn’t even consider the events that may occur in the future, I just lived in that crisp and beautiful Winter day for the short period that it lasted.
Visualizing this time allows me to consider the importance that is living in the moment. The moments that have occurred between now and then are endless, yet I can only name a few times when I truly let go of my worries and lived as if it were my last day on this planet. I hope that every human can experience, at least once, that wonderful feeling that encompassed me on that beautiful and unforgettable December day.