No matter how carefully we back up, we still run into a memory.

Or a car.

That’s what happens to me this week. I stop at the parking lot and run into the post office to buy some stamps.

I race back to my car. The thermometer reads 22 degrees, but with the wind chill, the meteorologist reports that it feels like 5.

The cold snap snaps me back to the winter I cross-country skied with my friend’s husband in Minnesota. Continue reading →