When their dad came home from work we would take them to Carondelet Park and zoom down slopes that seemed like mountains to them. Then, when we were so cold we couldn't feel our cheeks, noses or toes we would pile into the car and drive to White Castle (Crytsal's for y'all down south), fill up and warm up with hot chocolate, burgers and fries.
Last evening my son called and invited me to go to Art Hill with him and his eight year old son. I have a cold, and declined. I didn't tell him the real reasons. Mama's weight has increased since the days of his fond early sledding memories. If I were even able to plop down on the sled, and by some miracle it didn't get stuck in the snow, I just know that all this weight behind me would propel me at warp speed, a quarter mile down Art Hill and right onto the frozen lake. I didn't want to embarrass my grandson by alternately screaming, "Get out of my way!" to the hundreds of other people climbing back up the hill, and "Please, God, let that lake be frozen solid!" These days if I had to huff and puff back up the hill, my breath would fan the bonfire flames to new heights or extinguish them.
"Have fun, honey, hack-hack, snuffle-snuffle, maybe some other time."
When they were little we stayed out in the cold for hours and made igloos big enough to accomodate two children and the dog when they could catch her.
Last Christmas Eve I imagined Mother Nature tugging a big red satin bow, unwrapping a giant gift and dumping snowflakes fat as pancakes from the sky over our house. This is my favorite photo of our house. The snow was beautiful for a few days. Now, after several accumulating snows, salt-covered cars, clumps of refrozen dirty slush, I want her to snap the lid back on that gift box and tuck it away till next winter.
Yeah, I've had enough. This little plaque hangs on my front door during January. I took the picture last evening on one of the bushes out front, so you can see the lingering snow. And more is predicted!
I was a good mother, and my kids remember these fun times. I'll bet you have fond memories of your mom. There is a call out from Wisdom Has a Voice Wisdom has a Voice.com/, Every Daughter's Memories of Mother. They pay in copies, are open for submission until February 1st, and essays should be between 2,000-2,500 words. If this sounds like something you'd be interested in, I wish you success.