the first time

I cried as my dad pushed me down the slope…. But a six year old is allowed to cry… right?

When we went to the ski shop and tried on boots it seemed like fun, as I borrowed mom’s gloves... I couldn’t find mine, the adventure waited, but stepping into the ski bindings … even though I practiced at home it took four tries...barely able to stand up, skis slide around… it was too much, I didn’t want to do it any more, but dad bought me all that stuff, and mom was watching… he pushed

I glided…tears stopped

Later the whole family went to what we called Aomari… Snow cats were driving straight up mountains and people were skiing straight off of cliffs…

My brother was blond and Japanese people were universally in love with him, a snow cat driver wanted to take him for a drive and I got to go along. Who knew that machines could defy gravity, we drove in snow that was over my head up a mountain that I couldn’t have climbed on foot.

But at the mountain… I was not allowed to ski down most of the runs, but it seemed so easy, stop left, stop right stop left... easy

Being the middle of six kids, the youngest skiing, it was easy for me to disappear. My 15 year old brother saw me on the run that he thought too dangerous… and Mom tried to find me… they had to stop the lift for her because the “lift tips” sign was in Japanese so she didn’t... and never got on a lift again.