January winds were blowing hard as I sat looking
out the windows of our living room. The weather
forecast was for snowfall and to a little girl, that
meant the possibility of sled rides.



My folks had gotten a large used sled for me and
I was anxious to try it out. There was a road right
next to my childhood home and due to it's gentle
slope and little use from traffic, it was perfect
for sledding.



The children in that little village were hoping for
a powdery snowfall with a hard freeze on top of it.
That meant that you heard a deep crunch when
walking on the snow. Your boots sank into that
beautiful, glistening whiteness and the sledding was
superb. I carefully cleaned the runners on my
"new" sled and oiled them so that no rust would
form on the metal runners.



Oh what a treasure that sled was to me. All of my
playmates were somewhat envious of that l-o-n-g
wooden sled. The paint was partially missing, but I
could still read the word ,"Flyer"
on the top half of that sled.


After going to bed that night and wishing for lots
of snow, I awakened to nearly nine inches of the most
pristine snow I had ever seen. It was Saturday and
that meant no school. I ran to my Dad and asked if I
might be permitted to join my friends as they joyously
laughed and shouted while sledding down that hill.
Permission was granted.



I bundled up like an Eskimo from Alaska and braved
the deep cold that seemed to make your nose look like
a cherry almost instantly. There were giggles coming
from everyone as one by one we ran and "belly whopped" 
onto our moving sleds. What a treat that was !



My sled was too big for me to pick up and run with, but
I asked friends to give me a good shove as I lay tummy
down and off I went. I really had the feeling as if
I were flying. As I passed other friends pulling their
sleds back up that hill , we called out to each other and
the laughter seemed to echo in the cold air,
like a chorus of singers.



When we children could not tolerate the cold any longer,
we headed for our individual homes with the promise
to meet on that slippery hill another day.



With our childish thoughts of tomorrow, hot chocolate
for that day, we could go on sledding for always.


Ann Marie Fisher
© 2006