Master of the snow pile

Walking into a grocery store last night, I observed a boy who was about 3 or 4. He had on a red puffy coat, jeans and dark blue moon boots. He was concentrating mightily to scale a 3 foot high snow pile left by the snow plowers.

He made grunting noises and had the determined composure of a seasoned mountain climber. His mom was patiently holding one hand. He made it to the top of the drift and lifted one hand and roared a victory dance.

It took me a minute to assess what was in his other hand. It was a dirty white threadbare and frayed blanket. It was clutched under his arm where it wasn't going anywhere.

With his mom's hand firmly holding his, he hurled himself to the pavement below, and bounded through the double doors to encounter the world of groceries.

We can be brave, but we all carry our security with us, as either something that can be seen, or not revealed to others. But it is there clutched tightly so it is difficult for it to slip out.