A dusting of snow glistens in the yard. The sun peeks through the trees. I pull on an old blue ski parka that I like for morning walks and runs. This parka was retired when I decided it was too puffy to wear on the slopes when the wind was blowing. I turned into a sail and drifted down the runs out of control. But this parka is warm and has large pockets so I wear it to walk the dogs. I like these sparkling mornings when the snow is light and the sun shines. Everything seems lustrous yet fragile like china. I can see my breath.
Once again I’m a small child, sucking air into my cheeks and blowing it back out. If you can see your breath, you know that you are alive. Proof is always wonderful. If the sun is shining, life is perfect (even if it’s only 24 degrees out).