Nature abhors a vacuum, and the brains of we Baltimoreans are no exception. Into the lacunae created by our vanished memories rush other recollections. And suddenly we recall the taste of hot chocolate made with real milk — turns out that frenzied trip to the grocery store was not for nothing. And we remember, too, where we stowed that last, unopened tin of Christmas cookies. And, recalling the art of the belly flop, we get our sled and demonstrate for our children; their look of triumph upon reaching the bottom is something we’ll never forget. And, then, perhaps best of all, we recall the restorative powers of the midwinter, midafternoon nap. Oh, the luxury, when gentle-fingered dreams massage our fevered brains and all life’s worries truly are forgotten.