My Favorite Place

My favorite place in the world, though not specific, is on top of a mountain. One covered ever-so-gracefully by a thick, clean blanket of snow. It doesn't have to be any particular mountain, though the ones I know best live out west in New Mexico.

There's a beauty in the snow and the biting cold that comes with it. Some think the cold to be bitter or harsh, but I know it to be different. It's a force to be respected and admired. It's a reminder of what warmth is.

My best childhood memories involve playing out in the snow 'til my nose turned rosy red and my little finger tips froze. I would stay out for hours in the cold, long past the first numbing sensation. I knew all too well that when I was good and ready I could return to the safety of my home and be protected in its warmth.