Snowshoes and Me

A little of what I saw as I trekked along in my snowshoes.

My youngest is home from college for spring break. Earlier this week, we drove up to Kirkwood Ski Resort to visit my daughter who has been working there this winter. We stopped by their Nordic center so the kids could do a little cross-country skiing. They both were part of their high school Nordic teams, but it had been awhile since they had a chance to cross-country ski and years since they had skied together. The helpful woman working behind the counter started to find skis for them. I told her that I was “just going to read my book.”

The sign at the rental counter had alerted me to the cost of a daily trail pass for skiing or snowshoeing. I also thought I would need to rent skis for my son. I imagined that my daughter’s employee pass would get her a complimentary trail pass and a discounted rate for skis, but I was planning to pay whatever was necessary for my son to enjoy a day out skiing with his sister. I knew they had snowshoes for rent, and it would have been nice, of course, but it wasn’t really necessary. By opting out, I could save some money. And it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, to read my book (a Louise Penny Three Pines mystery) in such a beautiful place.

Then the woman in charge looked at me and said, “You could read your book, but you really should get snowshoes.”

So I did.

So the kids skied, and I got over my fear of not being able to put snowshoes on, and successfully snowshoed my way around the half-mile trail and then the mile trail and occasionally caught up with the kids when they rested for a bit and had such a lovely time. Then the kids went off ahead of me, so I was by myself for awhile, and enjoyed a few moments here and there of peace. It was me and the big pine trees and the bright sunshine and the snow and just for a bit I stopped worrying about our political situation and felt happy. Like it was a day with my kids that nobody could take away from me.

All the things that so often trigger me, the things that I worry about: they didn’t touch me out on that trail. They couldn’t find me there.

Afterwards, we stopped at the auto parts store and the clerk tested the battery in the car my daughter has been driving all winter, and it truly is not good anymore. Since it’s a Costco battery that is supposed to last for two years, possibly we will get a little money back on that. My daughter then went back to her shared apartment, and my son and I stopped for hamburgers and garlic fries at “Burger Me” in South Lake Tahoe before heading home.

It was a long day of driving, close to 6 hours total, for the drive there and getting home again, but I would do it again. I would do it again anytime. I would do it again for the moments where we were together in the sunshine and snow and for the moments when I was alone and able to remember for a few precious breaths how lucky I was to be snowshoeing, how lucky I was to be with both my children, to be alive on this beautiful planet, to be part of it all.