When was the last time you went skiing? For me, it was over 30 years ago and I was sure I’d never go again! I never even liked the sport. All I recall is a boatload of fear and discomfort. It was always bitter cold and I hated the whole process; lugging all of that clumsy equipment, getting on and off the chair lift, and paying exorbitant prices for sprained fingers and screaming shins!
Well, last week when I found out my son and grandson were heading north it seemed a hand appeared from nowhere and bopped me in the back of the head. “What are you waiting for? What are you afraid of? If not now, when?” So, on a whim. I jumped in!
We left at 9:30 pm Friday night which was brutal because I go to bed at 10! I did my best to keep my eyes open and be a good co-pilot to my son, but at times all I could do was grunt as my lids slid down over my pupils and drool escaped the corner of my mouth.
We arrived at a lovely old BnB around 12:30pm. This sweet, old woman with a gravely voice opened the door and showed us to our room. One room! My son slept on a cot and I shared the bed with my grandson. It was a pleasure to scratch his back until he feel asleep, but then I was awakened from a deep sleep when a large octopus landed on my face. I wondered if he was dreaming about basketball, as I delicately removed the appendage.
We awoke Saturday morning to discover we’d been locked in our bedroom! My son texted the innkeeper and she bobbled up the stairs, apologetically mumbling that she hadn’t done it! We looked at each other in disbelief. Was it Little One? (We had surmised that perhaps the innkeeper and her black cat named “Little One” were one in the same. To make up for that freaky moment, we had a fantastic breakfast and fourteen inches of fresh powder awaiting us!
It took a while to get into the ski resort as the traffic coming off the highway was lined up for as far as we could see. Once parked, we grabbed our skis and backpack, a backpack with side pockets to hold ski boots and a middle pocket for helmet, googles, gloves, and extra clothing. We stood in line as the school buses pulled around, loaded up, and transported the multitudes to the main lodge.
Putting on all the things was a bit of a challenge. I felt like a child as my son buckled my boots and adjusted my googles. Sobering moment!
Before I knew it, we were on the lift! My son and grandson were so attentive. We skied mostly green circles. and a few blue squares. At one point, I mistakenly followed them into the glades. These narrow tree-lined trails were gorgeously terrifying! Please let me live. Please let me live.
I found others on the slope to be goodnatured and mindful as well, like the the man who stopped the lift when I fell getting off at the top. I lost my bearings and got whacked in the back as the swept around (a hilarious TicTok video opp missed!) The ski patrol pulled me out of the snow bank. On my third fall, I lost sight of one whole leg completely buried beneath the snow. After digging out, I rolled to my back to rest with the back tips of my skis in the snow and tits in the air. The chairlift people gazed down from their perch above at the old cackling woman below.
Little did I know that my son had stopped further down the mountain and was keenly observing. He tried to text me and hemmed and hawed over whether to get back on the lift and come to my aide. He even took a picture of my “tit’s up” posture.
Soon after striking my pose, a concerned man stopped to ask if I was okay and stood by my side until I was ready to upright. I lay there and told him this was my first ski in over 30 years and that it was time for a coffee break. As he pulled me up, he exclaimed, “Heck, you deserve a martini!”
As he and his friends skied down the hill, my son overheard their exuberant chatter about my situation. I started to feel very special and I’m sure if I’d stayed on longer, I would have neared movie star status!
Movie star status dissolved quickly as I slogged up and down the razor edged steps inside the lodge. Toe down, heel down, flat-footed, sideways? How the freak do others make it look so graceful! I held up a whole line of people desperate for food and drink. When I finally lurched into the bathroom and caught site of myself, Sasquatch met my gaze. How did my son and grandson let me walk around looking like that!!!!
We got back to the BnB around 4:30 and I was spent. Made me feel good that I wasn’t the only one. We almost called it a night, but after showers and lazing around, we regained a smidge of energy and walked into town for dinner. Upon our home at 8 pm, we found ourselves locked out! We rang the bell, texted, and even banged the heavy, ornate metal door knocker. When gravely one finally came to the door, she reasoned that she was sure we had already settled in for the night. Yikes.
My oh my, what a weekend! I felt so full of grace, ease, life and love for the entire experience. I had overcome a fear, laughed heartily at myself, witnessed genuine kindness, and felt truly cherished by my boys.
And you know the stories will only grow larger and more elaborate through the years! P.S. My son pushed me off the chairlift!
“There isn’t a stronger connection between people than storytelling.”
J.N. Smith