The North Pole

One winter day many years ago, when my daughter Amy was three years old, she and I were making the short trip from our home in Maine across the state border to North Conway, New Hampshire to go shopping, or to church, or some such thing.

We came to a point in our journey where the road curved, and suddenly the majestic Mount Washington was dead ahead, shining large and white and beautiful in the morning sun. I heard a tiny gasp from the back seat, and knew that Amy, as well as myself, was awestruck by the majestic vista. “Mom!” she said breathlessly, “Look! It’s the North Pole!”

I laughed and explained to her that it was not, in fact, the North Pole, and since then that moment has found it’s way into our family lore- always recalled with smiles and chuckles.