Through the eyes of a child
I remember when I was about six years old; I loved winter. Right after the first huge snow my friends and I would go to Buttermilk creek hill. I remember most of the time the hill would ice over, so right after it snowed it was really slippery. The hill must have been at least fifty feet tall and a hundred feet wide. I would start climbing to the top with my friends, slipping on all the ice and trying to drag up a giant tube that was twice as heavy as I was. Once at the top I would jump in with my friends and suddenly I was magicly flying to the other end of the park. Some of the best memories of my life were when I was around five to nine; the carefree days I call them. But you know what’s funny? Now, when I go to Fond du Lac and I look at the hill when I’m riding by in the car, it doesn’t seem so big, so wild, or so insanely awesome. Sure it would still be really fun to sled on... But sometimes I still wish I could see things through the eyes of a child.
I remember when I was about six years old; I loved winter. Right after the first huge snow my friends and I would go to Buttermilk creek hill. I remember most of the time the hill would ice over, so right after it snowed it was really slippery. The hill must have been at least fifty feet tall and a hundred feet wide. I would start climbing to the top with my friends, slipping on all the ice and trying to drag up a giant tube that was twice as heavy as I was. Once at the top I would jump in with my friends and suddenly I was magicly flying to the other end of the park. Some of the best memories of my life were when I was around five to nine; the carefree days I call them. But you know what’s funny? Now, when I go to Fond du Lac and I look at the hill when I’m riding by in the car, it doesn’t seem so big, so wild, or so insanely awesome. Sure it would still be really fun to sled on... But sometimes I still wish I could see things through the eyes of a child.
-Bekki Phillips
