March was a tough month for me. Partly because I really wanted to do more than I got done -- like improve this site, post blog entries regularly, etc. I need more help than I want, and progress has been slow. It’s frustrating.
But also because it was a great month for skiing. My husband, Steve, has done a lot of it. We used to enjoy that together. Now he's doing it without me. I want him to. But it hurts, too. I did get back on skis about two years after my stroke – in three years I moved from the “magic carpet” beginner hill to easy intermediate slopes. But I used to ski everything on the mountain. I raced when I was in high school. When I was in my 20’s, I taught skiing! Last year I found skiing more trouble than fun, so I decided to take a year off.
Skiing has always been a big part of “who I am”. We taught all our kids when they were little. Skiing was our “family thing”. In 2005 we were skiing at an area in Utah we had never skied before. Someone told us there was a great run if, after getting off the lift, we traversed a bit and hiked just a few minutes. We made the short trek and when Adam (14) arrived at the described spot, he was off. Danny (16) followed right behind. I got there next, and looked into a moderate chute – a steep, narrow entry that, after about 20 yards, fed into a more open slope. By this time, all three kids were pretty strong skiers, but Sarah was only 10. I looked back at Steve and Sarah who were just behind me and said something like – I know you’re skiing well, Sarah, but this may be a bit too much. She slid up beside me, looked in, glanced sideways and said with a twisted look “Moooooom”, and in she went. Several quick turns and she was out of the chute and onto the slope.
I looked at Steve, and we didn’t even have to say anything. Our investment with the kids on the beginner slopes had paid off. We could have a lifetime of skiing together, with nobody left behind.
Now I’m left behind!