and the joys of being 10. It reminds me of walking home from school
in Iceland. The school and our apartment house were about 150 yards
apart across a rocky field (they call it “tundra”, which is the perfect
word for it). There were a couple of us who went to the school (A.T.
Mahan K-12) and lived in our little apartment house or the one next
door. In the winter, the wind would whip across that field between the
houses and the school at about 30 miles an hour. To combat this, my
little group of friends made a leanto out of rocks about halfway across
the field. We’d run for the windbreak, collapse into it and catch our
breath for the rest of the trip. It felt like an odyssey every day. Mr.
Wilson wishes he was 10. I wish I was 7, sitting in the little leanto
all bundled up, puffing steam laughing with my little brother.