We laughed until our cheeks hurt.
We burned down that hill like gravity itself with our coats and mittens crackling under the cold and we just couldn't stop laughing.
We bounced and spun and grabbed tightly to each other. We even face planted once, spilling off the sled in a pile, me on top of Miles on top of Asher. Poof! and then a split second of silence, the kind that holds a mother's breath while she waits to see if it will be the laugh or the cry.
It was the laugh that came. The very best kind of uncontrollable belly laugh, from both of my beautiful boys. A laugh that said I cannot believe that just happened it was so terrifying and so great.
We lay there, all three of us propped up on our elbows, laughing too hard to get up and feeling the ice cold of snow pushing through our layers. We looked at each other through tears brought on by laughing in the cold. We had done this wild and crazy thing on the biggest hill in the state park and then crashed and only we could know exactly what it felt like.
It was joy.
Again, they said, the very moment we came to a halt, every time. Let's do that again.
We're made to feel like that, fully alive. Like maybe we could even get hurt but the risk is worth the doubts and the adrenaline is a keeper of heartbeats and we just so badly want to feel them.
So that's what we did. We would feel alive like that and then stand and trudge our way back up so steep, legs feeling the uphill burn, huffing and puffing but not minding at all because of the expectation, the excitement.
Over and over we went and we were so tired when we slowly climbed back in the car.
It was so good. So worth every bump and grunt and huff and puff. So worth all the effort and strain.
To feel. Chilled and working hard and then riding the adventure for the sake of the joy.
"The glory of God is man fully alive." ~ St Irenaeus