Winter Magic

The iron-gray snow clouds softly sprinkled large, fluffy flakes upon my cheeks and eyelashes, like kisses from a doting mother, as I dragged my battered orange sled behind me, toward home.

The neighborhood kids and I had burned through the overcast daylight, sledding on Clark's Hill—the unparalleled sledding idyll adjacent to the old Clark house—until twilight heralded the end of the unplanned, but welcomed, snow day. None of us knew who lived there in those days, but they didn't seem to mind having all of the school-aged children of the neighborhood raucously enjoying themselves beneath their bedroom window, so live and let live.

I was contentedly exhausted after a day of racing down the short, steep hill in all manner of positions and games, only to trudge back up, in our suffocating snowsuits, to do it again. My little legs felt like lead from the repeated climbs, and I was almost dizzy with hunger. I looked forward to a home cooked supper.

Most often, I was anxious returning home, but not today. Something was in the air...a spiritual ambiance that was as close as my own breath. As I stood amid the wintry panorama, a sense of harmony, peace, and hope gently spread through my awareness. Serenity settled upon my soul like a thick, warm blanket, and I experienced a feeling of being home in the truest sense.

Every year of my preadolescent life, this Presence came upon me. I had no name for it, and it never rested upon me for long...but when it did, I knew a solace that was both alien and familiar, like recognizing a stranger as my dearest friend after a long period of amnesia.

Though I mourned this winter magic once I'd lost my childhood innocence, I can sometimes sense it...waiting like a nurturing Mother to bless my face, once more, with doting kisses.