“I FELL ON THAT BIG BUMP AND I LOST ONE SKI AND I SCREAMED YOUR NAME AND YOU NEVER CAME AND I HAD TO GO UP THE HILL BY MYSELF AND IT WAS SO HARD AND…” and the sniffles started.
“But you’re here now. Everything worked out.”
“BUT I HAD TO DO IT ALL BY MYSELF!” she asserted, more violently.
He looked at her. Without sympathy, he uttered, “And?”
“YOU LEFT ME! I SCREAMED YOUR NAME 15 TIMES AND YOU NEVER CAME!” she screeched, now gasping for air in between the sobs.
With more patience, though it came with difficulty, he suggested, “Why don’t you ski in front of me. I can’t hear you if you ski behind me.”
“I DON’T KNOW THIS MOUNTAIN AND I CAN’T SEE AND I’M COLD AND I SCREAMED YOUR NAME AND YOU NEVER CAME! I HATE THIS! STUPID SKIING!” and she thrust her pole down, spearing anything that might have been alive under the deep blanket of snow.
Emily and I were sprawled on the mountainside, our legs burning, yet freezing, the fresh snow we were resting upon slowly giving way beneath us. We watched the interaction between the young girl and her father in silence. Simultaneously, we decided rest time was over.
As we whizzed down the mountain, we both giggled as Em said, “Guess we’re not having such a bad day after all…”