I’m not writing here that I’m kind of over skiing. I’m going to write here about how skiing has become part of my life, part of my winter and how I’m starting to feel close to the resorts.
It truly seems crazy to me that a few years ago, skiing never crossed my mind and how big of a part of my life it is now. In one of my multiple conversations I’ve had on the lifts, a person told me that on Sunday, I go to church and that is totally true. I’ve also been thinking lately that I don’t even think “I want to go skiing today” or “I don’t want to go skiing.” I just kind of do it.
Lately I’ve been thinking how the resorts are kind of like my friends. Wachusett is the friend who lives nearby and is always there for you. Killington is the moody friend who is happy sometimes, unhappy other times. Stowe is the fancy friend who has to have all the latest things, top of the line. Impossibly glamourous. Cannon Mountain is your complicated friend. Sunday River is your short friend who thinks they are a lot taller. Jay Peak is your friend who smells of weed and is likely to show up to meet you wearing the same clothes they wore the day before. Or maybe just in their pajamas. Sugarbush is your best friend for life, no questions. All of them are good friends.
To good friends:
wrong side of the camera 