The crunch of snow as I try to climb the small hill, the bern.
And my feet out from under me.
Crawling on my knees.
My son laughing at me.
I should have worn the better boots,
But there was no time.
I should have  put on my snow pants but I didn’t want to look for them.
I wanted to go out, now.
I could feel the moment passing too quickly even as it began.
I am not too old yet.
To fly down the small hills
Covered in ice and snow.
To bite into the ground.
And flip over and roll.
To the sound of my shrieks and laughter and wild eyed smile.
There will be bruises.
It will hurt a little in the morning,
But I am here and alive!
A witness to the wonder unfolding right in front of me.