It's December 1967, the snow had started early this year, but whether it came in inches or buckets, I couldn't wait for the weekend. Playing outside in the snow was amazing. When I was nine, my Saturday morning routine involved my older brother and I waking up to a warm bowl of oatmeal with a raisin smiley face, and thirty minutes of Mom methodically dressing us in slacks and jackets. snow, socks and boots, hats and gloves and a scarf. One by one we rushed out to start the day. I remember waddling down sidewalks with mountains of snow on each side, fierce snowball fights with neighbors across the street, swirling angel wings in a fresh layer of snow, and cheers for finding the biggest ice bike. Our annual snowman featured a warm hat and scarf, two branches from the maple tree in our yard, raisins and a carrot for eyes and nose. My brothers and I stayed out for hours and hours, coming back only when we were called to dinner or we could no longer see in the dark. A delicious hot meal or a cup of hot chocolate was waiting for us at the table after leaving a pile of winter clothes at the door. My day always ended with Mom tucking me in with a good book and a goodnight kiss, and I fell asleep dreaming of endless possibilities in the snow. Life was good, I lacked nothing; Mom and Dad anticipated my needs before I even knew them. It was the winter holidays, school was out and the Christmas season was coming to an end. The tree and all its ornaments were put away, and a place was found in the toy room for each new toy. My brother's drum kit was placed in the corner with the rocking horse, the games were placed on a shelf next to the Barbie doll accessories, and my Chatty Kathy... middle of paper... carefree as the my. After seeing Jeannie's cry for help I felt like I had entered a different world, a world that wasn't just about me. It pushed me to look around me and taught me to be grateful. Grateful for what I have, grateful to have something more to give. I am grateful that Jeannie ignited my inner spirit so that I could see beyond myself. Jeannie and I remained very close throughout our school years. We spent a lot of time together at school and at home, and the next time we played outside in the snow she wore my old jacket and snow pants. I treasure our childhood friendship and will always remember his quiet smile and the lesson I learned that day in Murphy Park to consider the needs of others. I believe it is one of life's greatest treasures. If we have compassion to ease a burden and help others, they will do the same.