There is something so childlike and freeing about flying down a slope of white powder, not caring about how the freezing spray is making your face look, not caring about how girly your shriek sounds, not caring about what awkward body parts are going to hit the drifts in what kind of pile with those around you.
You can't just not love sledding. The most dignified of people look like complete fools when they're sledding. It's the best.
And there's a moment at the bottom of the hill, before you make the thigh-aching trek back up the hill, before you even wobble to your feet to brush the powder from your coat, where you're just laying there after the limb-flailing landing. You give your breath a minute to settle and just enjoy the childlike exhilaration. Maybe you stare at the newly forming constellations, or your frosty ghost of a breath in the air, or at your friend's pink-nosed and grinning face. But in that breathlessly blissful moment, there's just nothing to worry about.
It's just perfect.
That's why I jump up and down in front of the windows and beg everyone around me to go outside in the snow. You can't just not go sledding.
Totally creeping on all your posts recently but this is SO perfect. There's a great hill at school that we all used to go sledding down after dinner in like, December. It would always be super dark with the stars and everything, and it was just like you described... I love this.
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