Red Cheeks and Laughter
Across the road there was a lane,
an old logging road that went
nowhere, except uphill. Or down,
if that was where you wanted to go.
And we did, but only in the winter,
when a walk up that hill,
along that simple trail,
ended with a sled ride back down.
Or on a saucer. Or an inner tube.
And the kids loved it. All of them,
because everyone who went down that hill
was a child for the day, even Grandpa.
Sliding, tumbling, crashing
amid red cheeks and joyful laughter.
The last ride down the hill was the best.
It was just a short walk back across the road,
where Grandma waited with hot cocoa
and the inviting warmth of the wood stove.
There was more laughter as mittens and socks
dried above the stove and everyone talked
about their favorite ride down the hill
on those Botsford Hollow holidays.