I don’t have a complete snowsuit anymore, so I had to hunt around for odds and ends. Keeping up with the staying-warm theme, I selected my items (St. Bonaventure hoodie, my hooker boots, warm PJ pants, track warm-up pants, fuzzy socks to keep my toosies warm, scarf, earmuffs and skeleton gloves) and headed out into the snow.
Despite the late hour, it was quite bright outside thanks to the lights coming from the prison miles away. The snow coated the sidewalk and the yards surrounding our snow-covered house. We frolicked and ran with an almost full-grown golden retriever trotting by our side.
We traveled down over the hill into the woods and ran with the puppy trailing along behind us, but more often was he in front of us waiting for us to catch up. All I could picture was myself running through the grass in shorts and a tee shirt back in the summer months. Things had changed completely and time had gone by far too fast.
We paused and admired a particularly beautiful bush dotted with layers of snow on its branches, then hiked our way up the hill. I lay down on the trampoline that had been plastered with snow and closed my eyes, letting the snow kiss my eyelids, cheeks, nose, mouth and forehead. It was complete deja vu of what we had done in the summer, only we had a much larger and far more golden puppy in our presence and the weather was entirely different.
There is one thing I know. I will miss our little adventures. When we’re together, we’re not 22 and 16 anymore. Suddenly we go back in time and are 13 and 7 again, wrestling on mom and dad’s bed. As much as he bugs me and as much as his dog is a nuisance, saying goodbye on Saturday will seem wrong. Saying goodbye to him for the umpteenth time in my life will clue me in on what I’m missing out on due to my age. One day I’ll experience the same thing and get out on my own. Before I know it, that day will be here for me, like Saturday is for him.