Most days, the hill is my nemesis. It is tall, long, and steep, and it sits right in front of my house. I don’t dare walk it for fear that it will whip me into shape . . . or kill me. But, every once in a while, the hill turns into something magical. Today, bolstered by the unbridled joy of my daughters, I conquered the hill.
Snow is rare in Little Rock. Rare and wonderful.
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by Heather
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