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© Nance Thacker 1985
But, I've been getting the first sign that my enthusiasm is beginning to turn. No, I'm not getting tired of the cold or the snow. I'm getting weary of all the layers and layers of clothes that such a winter demands I wear especially today as I moved through 3 totally different venues: a business meeting, skating with a friend and doing a Shiatsu house-call. Inside, outside; inside, outside... layers on, layers off; layers on, layers off...further burdened with sessions of choosing and changing from business to sporty to therapeutic attire.
Then there's keeping track of all the gloves, socks and scarves. It's no wonder that Mom lined all 5 of her brood up, zipped us into our snow suits with hooded jackets, shoved our feet into winter boots and our little hands into mitts attached with strings and tossed us out one by one into the cold til the last was wrapped up and delivered. She shut the door and locked it behind us (I know, unheard of nowadays) until we'd gotten the prescribed dose of healthy fresh air (it was actually believed that being outdoors daily was good for children). Of course once the last child was turfed out the bladder of the first one was just about ready to burst. The sensation of full bladders would spread through the little troop like wild fire and all 5 of us would be pounding on the door and wailing dramatically to be let in.
Mom, from her vantage point at the other side of the closed door, using her "mom knows best" voice, would re-assure us that our little bodies had this amazing capacity to re-absorb the offending liquid, all we had to do was run around in the snow a bit and we'd see that it was true. And, for the most part, she was right.
Once the howling stopped and the older ones took charge, she'd retire to the most coveted place in the house, her sanctuary — the bathroom where she'd enjoy an uninterrupted flow of her own, sink into a hot, bath infused with baby oil and drift to a place where only mothers go on such an occasion; the most incredible dimension imaginable.
All this tripping down memory lane emphasizes the point I that I wanted to make which is — when I begin to yearn for the days when a tan is all that one needs to wear I know that the shine is beginning to wear from winter's appeal.
NOTE ON THE CARTOON: No, I didn't go to Hawaii in '85, but friends of mine did. I could only send Dealin' Dan the Tour Man there in my imagination.