Remember the first time I took you skiing, my girl? You loved it. You were about 10 years old. Wide open and no fear. When you’re small and already that close to the ground, it’s just nothing but snow-drifting, hair flying, feet sliding fun! Hot chocolate breaks and french fry lunches were so yummy and satisfying.
My peaceful place – the one I try to get myself to when I need to stay calm and re-group is that snapshot of a moment, standing completely alone right at the top of the run. My skis are pointing straight ahead, ready to go. Listen. It’s so quiet you can hear the snow falling. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The breeze is moving softly through the treetops. That’s the moment. Just that one brief awesome moment before I push off. Then all hell breaks loose with an explosion of frenetic energy. After that, all I can think about is staying focused and working hard to maintain what seems like a controlled fall down the long snowy slope.
When I feel the hardest moments coming, I try to place myself on the top of that peaceful snowy mountain. I try to sustain that peace for as many seconds as I can manage because I know the fall is going to be long and tough.
I miss you. So much.