Remembering Winter (Daniel Collins)

I could not see. Every step more snowflakes landed in my eye. Snow crunched underneath my shoes as my brother, my cousin, my uncle, and I tore up the snow-covered trails that morning. Before us was a vast winter land of white. We ran and ran, plowing through untouched powder, flinging snowballs at each other as we ran. We knocked the overburdened branches with snow to send snow cascading onto the runner behind us. It was a joyous day. The higher up on the mountain, the deeper the snow. Instead of dealing with the usual jagged rocks, we were landing on blankets of powder. It would not have been surprising to turn a corner and discover the lamp post from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Our hands may have frozen, but our spirits were soaring. We ran and ran, across the snow-covered hills. Snow hung in the bare trees. It covered bridges, logs, and rocks. It poked us in the eyes and piled into our shoes. We ran like giddy kids that day in a winter wonderland.

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