The Spark
30
“Mom, no!”
“Betty the conditions are great today. Come on, it will be fun.”
“No! It’s all icy.”
My mom just stayed silent. I was happy because I thought she gave in. My dad and Lavi, my brother, were off skiing on a really difficult trail. So of course, my mom decided to do Mountain Run, a black trail that was really icy. To go on that trail you needed to get off at the midstation. I wanted to go to the top and do a trail that is not as icy today. The creaky lift slowed as it reached the midstation.
“Come on!” my mom shouted, lifting the safety bar and sliding off.
My brain was full of molasses as it tried to figure out what had just happened. By then the lift was continuing up leaving me stuck on the icy chair and my mom staring up at me her mouth in a perfect O.
“Nooooo!!! Mom!”
Tears sprung to my eyes as I realized I was stranded on my own. Ok Betty, focus. I told myself crossly. I strained to reach the safety bar but I was too short! My shrill shrieks pounded in my ears as the wind shook my chair. The icy boulders leered eerily below me.
I shakily slid off my chair at the top. Three teenage girls walked up to me and said that my mom asked them to help me. My crazed brain just vaguely felt myself nodding yes. What else was I supposed to do?
There were two trails, a blue which I knew by heart, and a double diamond that I was always too scared to do. The three girls skied over to the top of the double diamond.
“I usually take that one,” I whispered nervously pointing at the blue.
The oldest looking one had to take out her map to look at it.
My teeth chattering nervously, I followed the girls down the familiar trail. They were flawless skiers and they patiently waited for me. When we reached the bottom, I glanced around anxiously for my mom. A ski patrol worker came up to us and asked if we were looking for my mom. I nervously nodded.
“Follow me. She’s in the ER,” he said curtly.
I had no idea what that meant so I just followed him mutely. We skied over to an ugly, squat brown building that looked menacing. My dad was outside, talking to someone on his phone. As I skied over to him, his tense face relaxed just the tiniest fraction.
“Mom broke her leg,” he said pressing me tightly against him in a comforting hug.
One look at his face told me he wasn’t lying. When my brain processed that, it did the only thing that seemed logical at the moment; I burst into tears.
That day, Friday, December 31st, 2010, was a day that started out as being one of my best but it ended up being one of my worst. That memory will always remain in my mind because of the sacrifices made from all directions.
-Betty B. D.
Just a Normal Skiing Day.
Yeah Right.