The cold wind of winter slapped me in the face as I walked the quiet streets of my past. Memories came flooding back at a pace hard to describe, like a movie on fast forward. Houses that each told a story still stand, looking weathered and old. Clapboards need paint, and sidewalks not shoveled.
I chose the cold to take this journey back to my favorite time of year so I'd always remember ice skating and sledding, which brought big smiles and a mother's warmth when it was time to come inside. I also remember snow days from school and countless snowball fights, usually ending when someone got hurt. I wore layers of clothes and green rubber snow boots that kept my feet from freezing. Then came the spring thaw, with muddy everything from head to toe and dirty little snow piles soon to be washed away with a springtime shower.
I'm old now, with winter's memories, remembered and lost, while some remain buried as deep as a snow fort made with frozen mittens. And I'll always remember the smell of baking bread coming from Mom's kitchen a few feet away. My frozen face smiles as I try to walk in the footprints of those who walked before me but are soon blown away by a cold winter wind. And I wonder if someone else chose the cold to go back in time and walk the quiet streets of their youth.
Mike 2024
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