We are stuck in a new ice age. Every day is freezing, actually below freezing as it is only 22°. I even hated going out to get my paper in the front yard. I walked gingerly on the icy, brick walk. The sky is filled with clouds. The backyard trees are silhouettes against the grey. Grim best describes the day.

When I was a kid, I had time to see the awesome. I could stop and be awed by the beauty of the snowflakes falling on my face, on my tongue and on my mittens held out to gather the flakes. I stood under the streetlight in front of the house, my face tilted to the light, and I watched the flakes. They glinted. They looked like diamonds.

This Christmas season I took light rides. Some neighborhoods were so amazing I had to stop and look at the designs and colors. A ride by was just not enough. I was back to being a kid again oohing and ahhed at the lights.

I used to hold my Rice Krispies to my ear before I ate them so I could hear the snap, crackle and pop. I had exciting cereal.

My father sometimes would pull my sled behind his car. The rope was long, and he went slowly. I’d sit upright with my feet on the sled’s steering and hold on to the sides of the sled. At least two of us sat on every sled. We had the best time almost flying over the snowy street. I still remember the sensation. It was laugh out loud fun.

Living in Ghana was exciting every day. I loved hearing the roosters greet the dawn. I loved teaching and learning. The market, occurring every third day, always felt like a circus of sorts with animals for sale with lines of chickens and sheep and goats and all the sounds they brought with them. I loved wandering among the fruit and vegetable stalls. Sometimes I’d find a treasure. Market day with all its usual goods and with some surprises was always one of my favorite days.

I stop now. I take my time. I watch the snowflakes fall into the back light. I put my hand out for the flakes. I’m finding the joys I knew when I was a kid are still here. I just have to look. I have the time.