Standing On The Warm Side Of The Window

As I stand on the warm side of the window, hands tucked into my pockets, watching the rainbow colored leaves of the Crepe' Myrtle Trees float to the cold wet ground, my mind drifts back to days of yore. Days when the coldness of the air didn't determine or deter the activities of the day. 

We would charge into the cold damp outside world in several day's worth of clothes, layered in order of convenience, not style. We would romp and stomp with no concern of discomfort, occasionally stopping long enough to back up to the campfire we had carefully built in the back yard. It would take a little time, but slowly the heat would work its way through the layers of clothes to our backsides sometimes causing a strange dance, as we tried to hold the hot clothes away from the sensitive backside of our legs.

Then, it never failed, about the time we had adjusted to the climate and things were really starting to be fun, Mom would holler and tell us it was time to come in, get out of the wet clothes and warm up for a while. Even though she hadn't said it, we knew that would be it for the outdoor activities for the day. We would stand at the window, blow our warm breath on the cold glass and draw funny faces as we began counting down the hours until another day.