It’s definitely been an uphill climb. More like a side-step on skis up a double black when you’ve lost a pole. Sideways and over and down a little and a long stretch. You finally reach the stray pole, then it slides again so you also slide back down a little. By then you are exhausted and you have this minefield of moguls left below you. But now you have to hold on to a pain pump with morphine in it while holding two poles. However beautiful the outcome will be, it’s daunting. And let’s see? Who can make it through that bumpy, unpredictable gauntlet on morphine and Ativan after not eating in two weeks? You cut yourself; It’s someone else’s blood. You spit your original DNA. You are 5 years old.
It’s your first time on skis. You point them through the minefield since that’s all you have ever known to do. The sun is setting and the light is gray and pink. You’re just happy to feel the air on your face even if it burns a little from the cold. It bites to be alive sometimes.
The shadows make it pretty and eerie at once. The moguls are so much taller than you are. But your advantage is clear: you can go between them. You still have enough strength to get back up when you fall and point your body in the direction it needs to go.