It's been over 10 years since I downhill skied.
The thought of skiing always brings back fond memories. Tata (my Dad) used to take me every winter since I was 7 years old. I will never forget his lessons, our lunches in the chalet, and cooling down our hot chocolate in the snow.
Once Tata passed away, and life got busier and more complicated, my trips to the ski hill had completely disappeared. It was like I stopped keeping in touch with a very good old friend who I loved hanging out with.
I very often wondered why? If I loved it so much, why couldn’t I find the time?
Following my new motto of taking life by the “balls”....I decided that it was time to get back out there.
I called the only person I could think of that would make this experience truly worthwhile and amazing.
“Mama! Wanna go skiing with me?”
“Vat? Okay!! Lez go! But first I have to bleach my hair.”
Within a couple hours, we were all decked out and ready to hit the slopes. My Polish Mother had seamlessly coordinated every item of her ski outfit.
“Did ju no-tees dat my entire outfit is orange?”
“Yes Mama. I did. You look amazing.”
“My skiis are nice eh?”
“Yes Mama. Your skiis are awesome.”
“Dey are orange too!”
“Yes. I noticed that.”
It was at that very moment, that I realized how hilarious this day was going to be.
“Oh no. Look at de chairlifts! Dey are all empty! No von is here!”
“Mama. Those are the lifts going down”
“Oh.”
On the way up, there are many more laughs. Mama mistakes a giant snow-maker for a satellite dish and then makes fun of a man wearing a black, full-face mask saying “He looks like he’s going to rob a bank after dis!”
As the chairlift is approaching the dismount, Mama looks like she’s going to throw up .....and my eyes are wider than flying saucers. We’re both thinking how nuts we are for attempting this after so many years, but neither of us wants to say it and discourage the other. We slowly slide off the chairlift and then let gravity pull us down to the slopes. Mama yells at me several times for coming too close to her. I just ignore her. I’m too afraid of dying to look back.
We stand at the top of the hill and look down. I bite my frozen lip. Mama is standing 2 metres behind me.
“Ma! C’mon!!”
A 3 –year old little kid in a helmet whizzes by us and yells “Dad! This hill is too easy! Let’s go to the black diamond again!”
I look over at the sign. It says ‘FAMILY’ right beside a blue circle.
Oh brother. I roll my eyes and look back at Mama who is now 3 metres behind me. How is she moving backwards??
But somehow, Mama and I manage to make it down the hill in one piece. And not only do we make it down, but we become completely addicted and we ski until it gets dark!
With each ski down, I gained more confidence and before I knew it, I was veering off into the forest on home-made trails and jumps. Mama stands there laughing as I pick up speed and then get ½ metre off the trail and into the air! I end up going so fast, that my hat flies off my head.....which Mama doesn’t see and skies right over! At this point, I am lying on the snow doubled over in laughter!
We end off our night in the chalet, sitting beside the fire, warming up our fingers and toes and drinking hot chocolate. We talk about our experience and how impressed we are that not only did we not DIE.....but we actually did.....really well!! And we promised that we wouldn’t let so much time go between visits to our beloved slopes.
And it made me realize, that picking up an old sport is exactly like riding a bike. You may be shaky, and you may be nervous, but you never really forget how to do it. And it doesn’t hurt to have your Mom there with you.......holding your hand........and making you laugh the entire way :)
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