In early March my family headed back up to Dunord. This time for the board retreat. We brought along my parents as well. They got to play with Jon and the boys while I sat in a meeting. I felt my time at in the board meetings was meaningful and useful, but I also stared wistfully out the window at the freshly falling snow and was jealous of the rest of my family who had no agenda for the weekend but to play.
On our last evening, after a day long meeting and a nice dinner, I was ambling back to the cabin for perhaps a game of cards before heading to bed. But then Theo asked to go sledding. It was chilly, snowing, late, dark. But I said yes. We bundled into our outdoor gear and headed over to the hill. As we walked along in the deep dark, I thought we would last one run. But then we came over the ridge and saw a magical scene. The sledding hill was softly lit by strings of christmas lights. The snow was downright sparkling as it floated down on the scene. We grabbed some tubes and took off. Sledding in the dark adds a dimension that brings the experience to the next level. You couldn't really see the bumps and dips, but you felt them. I think my favorite part was when our tubes took us extra far, down around a corner toward the dark lake, out of reach of the twinkling light. As soon as our tubes came to a halt, Theo would be up and running back toward the light. And I was right behind him. Something about moving from light into darkness. Suddenly you thought you could hear wolves, see red eyes peering at you, some sort of benign evil (I know, contradiction) closed in on us out there on the dark end of the sled run and we made a dash for safety. It got the blood pressure up, but at the same time you knew you were really ok. Which is the best kind of thrill out there.
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