To the young neighbor boy that lives just down the street: You probably won’t remember today, but I will.
This morning, as tiny snowflakes continued to blanket my landscape, I sat at my computer, attempting to write something poignant about the transitory nature of life and the seasons, but was distracted by the scene just outside my window: You were walking by with your little sister in tow, kicking tufts of snow with your winter boots and laughing as it sprayed upward and fell in your faces.
I caught myself staring at you two, and I hope you didn’t mind the silly smile that crept upon my face as I peered out the window. Relevant to my musing, I couldn’t help but marvel at how, as children, you don’t dread the future, you don’t regret the past, you just enjoy each moment as it presents itself.
Someday you might be the one inside, pressing your nose up to the glass, remembering what it was like to be “your age.” But I hope the day never comes when you hold back from tasting freshly fallen snow, and I hope you never stop enjoying moments just like these.
Thank you, my young friend, for your snow dance, and for the beautiful snow angel in my front yard. I hope you will always be young at heart.