But I have thought about her often since then, wishing I could be like her.
She was probably only three years old at the time, and probably not all that interested in the people and books her dad had come to see.
It was an outdoor book festival at a private university in Salt Lake City and some of us were there to sell, others to buy.
It was September, but unseasonably cold weather had come in, dusting the area with snow that morning. So as we sat with our books and our smiles and our shivers, we took turns complaining about the weather and how it complicated our lives that day. Everyone hunkered down, wrapped in whatever sweaters or wraps they could find to brace them from the wind, drawing inward against the chill, looking for an opportunity to run inside the nearby buildings and try to get warm.
But then I spotted this little girl, above the crowd thanks to her father's height, with an expression on her face that contrasted dramatically with all of ours.
Her face was towards the wind, and her smile was one of delight as it blew her hair back and tickled her eyelashes and whispered in her ear.
It's hard to describe the delight on her face. But easy to remember.
We were fighting the wind and the cold. Angry at it. Chilled by it.
She was embracing it. Delighting in it. Savoring it.
It might not be wind or cold that I'm fighting or angry or frustrated with.
It might be other vicissitudes or complications or annoyances in life.
But I hope to be able to resist hunkering down and complaining. I hope to be able, like that little girl in a cold and windy place many years ago, put my face toward the wind... and smile. 
(Another stormy shopping day -- this one in Astoria. ) (Sorry I used the word "delight" or its forms so often above. I normally avoid oversuse of one word. But it fits best.)
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