The last couple of weeks I've been working in the office, cleaning out files, catching up on my filing system that has been sorely neglected for far too long. It's amazing what you find when you dig in and pay attention. Items from 2006 kept turning up in strange places, finally it dawned on me...that was when dad was failing - and when he passed away. Sometimes we just click on auto-pilot and carry on...sooner or later the pieces will get picked up and put away.
One of the boxes up on the shelf contained an assortment of cards, photos that friends had passed on from wonderful shared ski adventures in the mountains. An unfortunate series of injuries has kept me off the mountain for a few years. As I flipped through the photos all of the memories came flooding back, getting up early to make first tracks, brunch with friends at the top of the mountain - a girlfriend who shows up at said brunch with a whole roasted ham, still warm from the oven. I think that's my favorite story...you just gotta love a girl who roasts a ham, stuffs it in her backpack and gets on a chairlift to meet her friends for lunch at the top of the hill, and yes....the ham was still warm, and yummy!
I miss gathering for apres ski to share a pitcher of beer and laugh and brag about who had the best crash, best saved crash or who hasn't crashed for three days running.
I miss it, I miss it all. The big swooping turns taken too fast..that fleeting thought that "if I crash this could be really bad", but not slowing down because the rhythm of the dance with slope of the hill is too beautiful to abandon.
I think it's time to dust off the sticks and make a few turns....
just to see if I still can.
Some of my favorite ski buddies.
Apres ski...always best when you can sit outside, waiting for the gang to trickle off the hill.
"The Red Rascalls"...
the best day ever
sunshine and snow
brunch on the mountain...
the stuff memories are made of.