Homage to a memory.
I felt much bigger than my age when I was 12. I was skiing at Aspen when I was 12. Not taking lessons, I was tackling mountains when I was 12. I was cutting powder, slicing ice, chopping crystal, and moving moguls when I was 12. I could do anything.
High on adrenaline, "To the top!" I demanded.
My keen skiing family couldn't disagree. Two by two, we boarded the chairlift. We moved higher, as the weather got colder. We got colder, as the chairlift took us slowly to the top.
5 minutes, mom and I ran out of conversation.
15 minutes, we were speechless not because of lack of words, but because our mouths were full of chattering teeth.
25 minutes. The wind gusted, the snow blinded, and the cold pierced.
I was so scared.
Shocked by the snowbank at our feet my mom ripped me from the chair. We tumbled down the exit as we lost our hats and poles. Struggling to find our gear in the blinding, horrific blasts of air impaling us in the face, we screamed for each other.
Tip: Where a helmet on the mountain.