My Dad used to bring me skiing. Then I rode up on the bus to go skiing. Then I hitchhiked to go skiing. Then I quit, because I couldn’t afford the equipment, the cost, etc.
For vacations, we’d go camping in the mountains. We couldn’t afford hotels. Each night I’d lay there awake in my sleeping bag (freezing, Dad couldn’t afford good sleeping bags, either!), looking up at the stars. I used to dream about living in the mountains.
Same thing with skiing. I always hoped my Dad’s car would break down, that we’d have to spend the night. I used to look around at all the families who skied, who lived nearby the ski area, thought how cool that would be if I lived in the mountains near a ski area.
Dreams come true.
I’m not one of those who complains about snow conditions, snowboarders, skiers, or crowds. Nada. If there was just a patch of white, I’d make a turn. I cherish each moment here, I’m grateful. I wish it for everyone.