As the snow fell softly beyond my windows,
 I sat resentfully inside of my sciatica-ridden body - 
 longing to bounce in its midst, 
 to twirl in the flakes of light
 to lay back into an angel on the marshmallowed ground,
 even to shovel a patch 
 or clear my car’s windows.
 Instead, I stared
 and I longed.
 And then I remembered the time 
 I tumbled across the driveway 
 as the handful of firewood I carried 
 flew about all around me – 
 my teenaged body
 bounced across the unplowed snowdrifts,
 as the wind of my lungs bounced away from their grip. 
 Motionless, 
 I laid there, 
 laughing at myself internally
 because there was no air left to laugh out loud. 
 And as it does in those moments,
 the air returned slowly and my lungs regained their strength.
 I stood, 
 brushed myself off and gathered the strewn firewood,
 with not even a thought that I had hurt myself
 or might feel aches the next day – 
 for I was a teenager 
 with a body that bounced back 
 as swiftly as it bounced across the snow-covered driveway.  
 The memory 
 lingered until I smiled a wink to myself,
 recognizing the gift of growing older
 and frailer,
 vulnerable
 and aware. 
 What a day to sit quietly inside this was 
 and remember 
 the unaware
 unknowing
 undaunted
 young me. 
 What a day to sit quietly inside this is 
 and recognize 
 the mindful
 seeking
 grateful 
 old me.