Snow so fresh, it's lighter than a feather, tossed about by the wind in all places visible. Layered high as a rooftop. And the trees, all the color of deep sea green. Smells of nearby fires coming from snuggly homes. That familiar pizza restaurant, just behind a stream, where the thin ice now lies. Smiles are on every other person's face. The strangers are friendly, and the best friends near. Bravery, I find in this place. To venture out in the cold, fresh layer of bliss are clear. Inside that little lodge, across the street, smoke rises above the stone chimney, allowing the smell of fresh cut pine to drift. And all the children know, new adventures await inside this lodge. Every year, golden sugar cookies sit and wait to be painted a new face, a splash of color, as families delight over the joys of Christmas.
And every year, my family and I travel the long roads through the countryside, through the mountains, to this place. The ever familiar place I love. Colorado.
Today, I am reminded of this joy.
The rain here has fallen swiftly, just as quick and easy as the snow falls there.
Oh, the snowball fights, the hide and seek on every floor in our sleeping lodge.. Everything is within walking distance.
Oh, there I am brave.
Such as the time I played late night hide and seek at night, the time I went to a friend's friend's party, where I knew no one else. Ah, there was the time Jesse and I nearly flipped over the go-cart on that wet, snowy road. Or the time I ventured through the snow by myself to find the library.
All these experiences come within the feeling of near bliss, easily visible on my face, like the snow that falls.
I love this place
And the friends in it.