We’re back in Maine in the 90s, when playing outside was all we knew. We didn’t have cell phones, just our imaginations.

The first snowstorm of the season had just hit, and even though it was already dark, my mom said, “Let’s go outside and play.” So we bundled up in snow pants, layer after layer, pulled on our boots and mittens, and headed out the door.

Sure, we could have helped shovel while our dad snow-blowed the driveway, but instead we grabbed our sleds and ran for the hill beside the house.

After countless rounds of flying down and climbing back up, we’d start building a snowman on the front lawn for the whole neighborhood to see. We always had so much snow that we’d climb the giant piles and play on top of them like they were mountains. Getty Images/iStockphoto Getty Images/i

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