Time spent on the slope is absolutely the best. The worst week can turn around in an instant once my feet are placed into my ski boots and I hear that familiar *click* as my heels press down into the bindings. I’m locked in and ready for the adventure that awaits.
Gliding to the lift for the first run of the day always makes me a bit giddy. The excitement of getting on the lift that transports me from the normal daily routine is euphoric. Especially when I look to my left and right and I see my blessings.
It seems just like yesterday I was looking up at my mom and sister as I was ecstatic to hit the slopes, gliding toward the lift. Proudly displaying my paper lift ticket hooked to my super 80s style jacket and smiling as I pushed forward rapidly following the chairs that had just past, so I could turn to see my chair approaching. “Get ready girls!” my mom would always shout out. Her voice was always different from that moment onward during our day. Once on the lift, we would chat about the run we would take for our first of the day and listen to the sounds of the mountain. As the lift brought us closer and closer to the top. I would begin visualizing myself skiing as I shouted out “B-52 bomber down the trail!” feeling like I was zooming faster than the speed of light.
Now, I am no longer that little girl. I am a mom with two kids who are gliding towards the lift with me. We are proudly showing our season pass that are hooked nicely to our jackets. HS now towering above me and LD is near my height. I find myself shouting, “Get ready!” in a voice that sounds much like my mother's once did as I look over my shoulder at the incoming chair that will transport us up to the top of the mountain. Transporting us to the start of a marvelous day that is ours to create. Together. Chatting, planning, and listening to the sounds of the mountain as we hover above the trails that are waiting.
