This week we were visited by a blizzard that swarmed the streets of Manhattan with a gush that left us in the midst of a wonderland of white. As in we received nearly 20 inches of snow within fourteen hours. What started as adorable snow flurries when I left for work in the morning, quickly gave way to me crawling through snow drifts as I tunneled my way home at the end of the day. On my hands and knees. Blinded by the whipping wind. Only to be found by a dog with a barrel of hot whiskey around his neck. Kidding! But I did have to slam through the front door of my apartment at a run to break through the accumulation outside my stoop.
But who am I kidding? It was a BLAST! And VERY adventurous. I felt very Daniel Boon-ish.
So it comes as no surprise when my friend and I decided to go sledding last night in Central Park. That’s right. Sledding. The problem was that neither of us had a sled. Our first attempt was with the help of garbage bags – we are classy like that. But when that merely sunk us into the snow due to the friction from our junk in the trunk, we decided to just high step around the park and take in the wintry scenery.
But then we struck sledding gold… We found a sled discarded beneath a tree. It was a glorious foam disc with a heinous looking flame caricature drawn on the front giving us the thumbs up sign that had been cast off when one of the handles had broken away from the sled. Good enough for us!
After tromping to the top of a very steep, very slick, very long hill we couldn’t help but gulp when we realized what our almost 30-year-old selves were about to attempt. Broken bones sounded much more immanent than the last time I went sledding at the age of twelve. “Graciously” my friend offered to “let” me go first. How generous. With a deep breath that crossed between a panicked squeak and a cry, I crossed my legs and shoved off.
After slightly shifting my weight forward, I promptly went zipping down the mogul filled hill at lightning speed. SCREAMING THE ENTIRE WAY.
And it was a thrill that left me laughing and gasping and checking myself for injuries at the bottom, after slamming into the bale of hay that the Central Park Conservancy smartly packed at the base of all of the lamp posts.
By the end of the night, we had snow shoved into crevices we hadn’t even remembered we had. But it was a level of childish fun that is food for the soul. It is memories like this that help us through darker days for years to come. And yes, my boy is going to get this experience as soon as he sleeps off a night shift. Get ready, Steve! That thumbs up is pointing at you!
(Photo by Annie – my apologies for the photo quality, but it absolutely HAD to be documented. Even in low light. Even with a camera on my phone. Don’t you agree?)