Forever Nostalgic

I’m nostalgic for the day I skipped school and headed to the mountain on perfect powder day in Colorado. Meg and I met before school and snuck to the bus top, we both had a math test we were itching to miss and wanted to take advantage of the first good snow fall of the year. The thicket of fresh powder was ideal for beginners like me since the fluffy coat made falling less painful. Thus I became fearless. Even the straight-aways were no match for me today; I was even keeping up with the six year olds who had been snowboarding since birth. The wind burned my cheeks and nose and my eyes watered behind my goggles. Meg and I raced, following are usual paths stopping at our regular restaurant and snack places along the way. We did our favorite run four times that day before making our way to the top of the final slope. We sipped hot chocolate on the mountain giggling and watching the last snow bunnies of the day fade blissfully but not always gracefully away. We lay belly-up sinking into the soft snow and watched the snowflakes grow from fakes to the quarter sized. This was our routine; we would wait until everyone was gone, and just as the sun was setting and unstrapped from our boards and use them as sleds for our last ride. If I had known then what I know now, I would have spent a few more minutes there in that spot. If I close my eyes and dig deep into my trunk of nearly forgotten memories I can almost feel the fakes evaporating off my face, and the aching of my cheeks from too much laughter.

Lately I felt that life has been moving too fast. I guess it was bound to happen. What worries me is that I’m beginning to forget some of the great experiences. I really need to practice living in the moment. Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow.