Snow Boots Made for Walking - and Talking

Today I am grateful for snow boots. They've been in the back of the closet, still in the box, since I bought them on sale at the end of last season... I had forgotten all about them until our Pacific Northwest snow "events" began in November. (We're having wind, snow, ice, and more wind - and in New York they're lying on the beach. But there's no such thing as global warming, no sirree.)

In the day-to-day sense, I'm glad to have warm, dry feet, and thick soles that don't slip on ice. I can walk the Giant Dog without being too afraid of falling. In a more global way, my boots provide an avenue to touch base with my adolescent son, who is sometimes fairly hard to reach.

I am so lucky that he still wants to talk to me about important things. Even on days when he's been snarly and impossible and I want to steer clear of him, he'll perk up around dinner time and say, "Are we going on our walk tonight?" and I find myself pulling on the boots.

Last night he and I walked around the lake just as the real snow was starting. The flakes were so fluffy and dry, they looked like cartoon snowflakes. Our neighborhood quickly became a fairyland. Nobody was out except for A. and me -- and the Giant Dog, who is made for snow and was ecstatic. We tromped around our usual route, making the only tracks in the fresh snow, and talked of this and that. It's our main connection as mom and teenager, and a routine I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. I am glad, though, to have dry feet while it's happening.

So, thanks for snow boots and a reason to walk in them.