People are going back to school again, and I'm not. The weather is getting cooler, and I'm happy about that. Yes, it's always a bit sad to see summer go, but I love sweaters and jackets and snuggling up under blankets. Don't think that'll ever change.
Last night, Becca and I were talking about taking walks in the snow, and I told her about one of my most cherished memories. I was probably about 6 or 7 years old, and there was a lot of snow on the ground. I had already gone to bed, but my dad woke me up, bundled me up, and took me to the part of the MoPac trail (then quite new) that was in the East Campus neighboorhood (near our house). My dad and I took a long walk on the bike path with snow falling. I can remember the color of the sky, the street lights on the snow, and the absolute quiet on that bike path. I remember looking at my dad's smile. I remember feeling like he was thinking this was special, too.
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