Sometimes a moment lingers and the memory it produces is like a snapshot.

Walking home from school as a child, I would pass through a small park with a very steep, short hill. When there was snow on it, people from the surrounding blocks would come to slide down, walk up, and slide down again. Most of us would have smiles, but there were inevitable tears, usually a result of collisions, accidental or otherwise. Minutes or hours were spent there. I do not recall. What stands out in my mind is that most of us did not use sleds; our coats or jackets served us well.