Breathing in brings back a rush of memory of the end of the year ski trips.   Our most memorable one being a trip to the Zermatt, Switzerland.  It was my first plane trip overseas.  The long wind up to Zermatt by train, in the dark, saved my anxiety, not able to fully appreciate how high we were.  At the top we were greeted by tall handsome young men, kind of what you'd see on a romance novel, long hair, full length fur coats, asking us to climb onto their horse driven carriages to be driven to our small hotel.  At 16 I was pretty sure we had reached heaven.  The jingling of the sleigh bells and breath of the horses was the only noise and exhaust as there were no cars driven in Zermatt.  The snow was pure blue white with the light of the moon.  It is amazing to me how clear my memory of that trip is some 36 years later.  How this cool moist March air can transport me back in time.  How important those young adventures are for shaping our reactions to a cool March day.