Memories of Snow

Whenever it snows, memories start to flow. The quiet air reminds me of skiing in Montana. Standing on the mountain, there’s a peace that you feel. All the normal sounds are dampened, leaving you a little more alone than before. It’s great for getting lost in your thoughts.

When my dad was in college, he would drive out to Bridger Bowl each year with his friend Jeff. They stopped when they both got married, started having kids and getting really busy raising them.

But when I was old enough, they decided to start up again. I invited Travis along and the four of us headed West. I’ve probably been skiing without Travis less than 5 times in my life. We’d stay in a hotel for 4 nights, skiing for 4 days, then driving back those 1000 miles.

Our first year, we encountered a run called “Good Clean Fun”, which was nothing of the sort. I hit maybe 3 trees, and Travis ended up needing stitches after a ski to the head. His parents bought him a helmet after that.

One year, there was a huge blizzard and the mountain was closed for the first day and a half we were there. Those next few days though were the best skiing I’ve ever had. Two feet of powder everywhere! Travis took a tumble and we spent 30 minutes looking for his other ski. That’s the year we did Flippers for the first time, a real double black diamond.

More of the family started coming as time went on. My sisters both snowboarded, but Jenna didn’t like it as much as Kate. Jack is a daredevil skier, just like in everything else. Our cousin Luke came last year. This year my aunt Amy and her family will be there right before us, so we’ll take them on the hard stuff on their last day (our first). I wish our cousin Andy could make it too, but he has to work.

It’s amazing what a little snow can bring to mind.

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