One Last Time?

“One last time?” That was the question rising to the surface of my thoughts as I was eyeing the snow this morning. Would this be the last time I would get out this season and enjoy a ski? The snow on the ground had become compact…perfect…the snow wouldn’t stick to my cross country skis. As soon as the thought entered my mind I found myself getting antsy. “I need to get out there before my last time melts away!”

I’ve always been antsy about the snow. I see snow in the forecast and I want to make the best of it. Enjoy it, play in it, ski on it. That part of me has not grown up…I’m still a kid when it comes to snow.
Sure I put on the grown-up face when talking about the snow and having to drive through it, or plan around it, or make management decisions regarding it, BUT when I have no responsibilities and there’s snow, I want to enjoy it before it goes away.

I hate missed opportunities.
Especially end-of-the-season missed opportunities.

Okay, I’m not just like this at the end of the winter season. I’m antsy to get out there at the start of the season too. I find I’m more like this now living in Lancaster, PA as compared to when I lived in the hinterland of New England. Up in the mountains snow is there all the time, but down here in Dutch country it’s a hit or miss thing. There was a few years back where he had no snow till March…boy was I antsy (and grumpy). This year our first snow happened before Thanksgiving, and it had hardly stopped falling before I was digging out the skis and looking for the winter jacket.

But today might be the last time for the season. And the idea of missing that last ski, urged me to carve out time and enjoy it. Really enjoy it.

One last time?
It’s a phrase I say when I’m trying to convince my daughter that we need to wrap things up–one last game, one last book, one last high five–before we need to move on.

It’s a phrase I hear from my husband when we’ve visited a vacation spot and we want one last look at the beauty and memories of the trip.

It’s a phrase that nestles itself in my heart giving off a wistful, joyful, melancholy beat. And I give myself the same advice I give my daughter, “Let’s enjoy what we can right now, and maybe someday soon we can enjoy it again.”

As I was taking my (most likely) last ski of the winter, I passed by a runner. Here we were at the edge of our seasons–I was trying to stretch out the taste of winter and she was trying to usher in the taste of spring. Both of us trying to enjoy the beauty of “right now.”

So what’s your “one last time” for the season? What can you enjoy “right now?”