I have wonderful memories of snow. Directly behind our house was a giant hill that ended in a lake. We spent hours sledding down that hill. Bundled up, yes, but still turning ourselves into walking icicles. In January, after the lake froze over, we would sled down the hill and skid across the lake. Boy was it fun (and probably why I still like speed to this day)! We even built a ramp at the bottom of the hill to increase the thrill. Crazy, sure, but who could resist the resulting airtime? It was awesome!
When I look back on these memories, I can acknowledge that the hill probably wasn’t as big as I remember, the speed probably wasn’t as fast as I remember, and the airtime probably wasn’t as long as I remember. But I am still grateful for these memories. They are part of the puzzle that makes me who I am today. Not just the snow, but the adventure, the laughter, and the crazy siblings that I shared it with.