Living and working at a ski area can teach much about loss (and gain). After a disappointing week of fluctuating snow levels (read the dreaded “r” word: rain), the weather finally turned yesterday.
I have to admit it: I was feeling a little sorry for myself. The window of my car was smashed in last week and my computer stolen. I felt violated. Then it rained at Crystal. And it wasn’t just a light sprinkle–more like a deluge. Let’s just say it rainied so hard the animals were pairing up.
Riding the foggy chairlift yesterday morning, I tucked my chin into my parka and sighed. This was not my beautiful life.
Then a few hours later, the thick fog began to break up. Hiking the Throne, clearing the rime from the ropeline, I looked around and smiled. The clouds thinned a little and I felt lighter. The whiteness of the snow almost contrasted to the new almost-blue of the sky.
That’s the thing about life. It doesn’t always snow, the sun doesn’t always shine. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes bad news sets up around us like avalanche debris. The key, I’m finding, is to look up when the sun shines against the clouds. Yesterday, my step-daughter told me that she wants to be a ski patroller when she grows up. She said she wanted to have a cool job, like me. It was a special moment, and I’ve found myself repeating it to others. She thinks I’m cool!
It was a reminder to appreciate every, every moment. A very clear reminder.