From December 20, 2014
The snow slides smoothly under our skis. We glide through the trees, wind turning our cheeks rosy and our breath coming out in clouds. My hips have begun to ache, old injuries flaring up and A’s breathing is fast, but we are still smiling, alive in the moment. It’s been a long time since I have been skate skiing regularly and I can tell that I am out of shape. A has only been skiing three times in his life, but his enthusiasm makes up for the lack of experience. Already I can see his form improving. Soon he’ll be far faster than me.
I head down a slightly iced hill, moving my feet fast to make the turn at the bottom. I stop to wait, hoping A will take the curve slowly so he doesn’t hit the trees on the side of the trail. As he appears and disappears behind trees, I am struck with how fortunate we are. These trails are a mere fifteen minutes from town, and despite the nearly full parking lot, we have yet to see another soul.
A comes to a stop next to me, grinning. He made the turn beautifully, staying upright. He is thrilled to have this opportunity and I am loving sharing my home, now our home, with him. A starts off again, tucking in his arms and poles to focus on his footing and leg work. I follow behind, taking in the snow and trees, the blue sky and the sharp wind.
We are home, these moments now ours to cherish and seek out.