A fond memory.
It snowed last night and the landscape looks sooo beautiful--but I can't go skiing right now, for several reasons... One of which is posted here. Not too much sympathy, please--I'm healing great.
Did I mention I can't go skiing? Sigh. So I sated myself today by writing out a fond memory... a favorite daydream. Here it is:
***
We march like ants along the top of the cornice, greedily peering down into the snowy bowl of Silver Fork. Fresh powder-lots of it. Who will get first tracks?
We stop and peel off our skins, fold them up, stow them in our jackets, lower our heel bales, click our hinges to ‘ski’ mode, swig a drink, snap on goggles, and finally-wriggle our pole straps back over bulky gloves.
We are ready. Everyone trades loaded glances.
1,000 feet of pristine fluff beckons.
“So…ladies first?” I suggest, straight-faced.
Mike breaks into a gruff cough. Bordering on a choke.
“If there were any Ladies.”
I smile. No chivalry here today, apparently. I’ll simply have to cheat.
I kick off, cries of outrage ensue, and instantly, I know I’m being chased.
I glance over my shoulder and spy my own rooster tail. Perfect champagne powder sprays up five feet high behind me. Laughter bubbles in my throat. Bandits pursue.
I can’t hold them off for long, but a good 500 feet will do…
A good 500 feet will keep me smiling all day long…
A good 500 feet I’ve stolen from the boys.
