The world is bleak as I watch the snow drip into the puddle on the wet, soggy ground; there are small mounds of sunken snow scattered across the yard, mostly showing the dead grass. There are shadows of castles of snow everywhere the eye can see. And at the edge of the yard, I can see the shadow of the tall-standing snow fort that is made every year. The fort stands high, and inside, my sister and I launch balls of snow at my dad, only to receive a face full of snow. But these are only shadows.

  Being only six, it is difficult to tell how lucky you are. At any age really, you do not appreciate what you have until it is completely and utterly gone. You are unable to know that the normalities in your life will someday diminish, leaving you bleak and desirous of what once was. I stare out of the window, mesmerized by the glistening snow, perfectly laid out. My parents get me suited up to go into the swirling, soft-sounding blizzard. As I walk outside, tumbling over the mounds of slick, towering snow, my mind cannot focus. My eyes become strained. My face is bombarded with gusts of snow. My feet become immersed into an avalanche of snowfall, and I love it.

With my eyes now covered mostly by my scarf, which feels as if it were wrapped around my neck so many times I could choke on it, I can see my dad snow-blowing the driveway. There are lanes of white streaks, tinted with the black asphalt of the driveway, already getting covered with a fresh layer of snow. My eyes wander up and down the driveway, watching the sheets get dispersed into the air, creating a monstrous tower. I race up to him, waiting for the moment when he will help me construct my snow-fort, as he does every year: we become more and more creative with how to construct the fort. The previous year, my dad created a slide of snow that began at the start of our yard, into the neighbors. We would sled down the mound of snow and rush up to the front to do it again. We have created snowmen, slides, igloos, and forts. Every year we add to the memories and create something even better. That is what makes the first blizzard of the year so memorable, it is the time where we begin to develop something big, that tops the year before. My eyes shift over to the garage door, where I hear someone calling my name while stumbling over the mounds of snow. My sister, Alexandra, runs over to my dad and I, also waiting for the start of the construction of the fort. He finishes the driveway and begins to help my sister and I with our creation. We all stand still, looking up at the mountain created by the sky and the snow-blower that will be shaped and molded into beauty.

While peering into the distance, I can see my neighbor, Ben, rushing over to my house as he slides across sheets of ice hiding under the snow and starts to help us. We begin with the base, as this is the most important of all steps. This is the foundation of it all. Then we move onto the walls and interior. This is another aspect that amazed me–the architecture of it all. How everything goes together and has a purpose. Every little detail matters, and without something so small, like one handful of snow, it would not have been finished and made to its full potential. My sister begins to get anxious and starts to throw snow at me, running from side to side of the lawn, laughing. After hours of hard work by mostly my dad, we are done.

We take a step back and admire the beauty; the feeling of accomplishment in creating something so beautiful, yet empowering, is something I will never forget. After finishing, I know that the neighbors will be envious. This is where the snowball fights will occur, and I will have the best shelter and shield. Ben proceeds home after hours of hard work with a smile on his face. After I cannot feel my toes, fingers or face, we begin to walk inside, and as I open the door, I feel a burst of warmth. My sister and  I take off all our wet, sunken gear and throw it in the dryer. My dad takes a step inside and lets out a big sigh. My dad, sister and I make hot chocolate and admire the snowflakes as they shimmer down and append onto the snow-covered ground. The hot chocolate warms my stone cold hands as I look out the window while my eyes are locked onto the fort that we completed. I counted down the moments until I regained feeling in my toes, so I could go outside and experience it all over again.

Looking back on these years is painfully pleasant. I would give anything for a day like this again.  Now that everything is different, I realize how lucky I was. Now that these years are over, I think back to the feeling I will never forget. A smirk appears on my face when I am reminded of these innocent years. As I watch the ice melt off the roof and fall to the wet, sunken ground, the shadows begin to vanish, leaving me envious of what once was.