Author Christy Green

The snow is falling gently outside.

My fireplace is running,

the smell of cold and ash takes me back to winters spent sledding.

You always made the best sledding runs, mom always hated them.

Much too dangerous she would say.

We went so fast down the hills it’s what I always thought flying would be like.

Ice clung to my eyelashes, my mittens long wet, one more we would beg.

I could tell you wanted to say no but our faces were always begging. Please daddy!

We went once more, then we would go inside and build a fire, taking more attempts than it should’ve.

You’d make hot cocoa and we would watch a movie.

I miss you everyday, but even more when it snowed.

Snow days were our day, no work just play.

Oh how I long for those old snowy days.