When memory lives on paper

I have a strong memory rising to the surface, of a cold night in Michigan after a fresh snowfall. My brothers and I are out, exhilarated by the joy of sledding in our toboggan. The stars are bright and our noses and cheeks are red. The world's noise has been silenced by the insulation of snowfall, even the occasional car that passes makes only the sound of rubber squeaking over the hard packed layer of white. We live for this time, to play outside in the winter, while the grown-ups turn on the kitchen light and gather for card games that will go on until midnight. There are cookies and chips and pop on the counter, and the tree is lit with colorful strands of lights. I can walk into this night when I sit down and draw us as we were. Jenny, Roger and Kenny, all bundled up in our snowsuits. I remember and I yearn to go back to those years. It's raining in North Carolina tonight. But in my mind the snow is falling all around.