Squints

A short December day is here, and the sun, low on horizon as if to say

remember me

I am here.

Makes for staggeringly blinding snow.

It’s the squinty kind of bright,

that makes my forehead crease as I appreciate the fresh quiet. 

A full on Snow Day at our friends’ cabin. No need to watch the news or anticipate school closures. We’re just snuggled in and cozy.

Until we go outside, that is.

We have been out here nestled into the mountains, off and on for 10 years. Mostly summers, but our 13-year-old still asks for a jaunt to the Snowy Cabin (and calls it that regardless of season) whenever we return to these parts.

He and I have been creeping through the snow in search of a good spot for a sled run  and finally found one, snaking between branches and hidden rocks.

It’s a blast, and a workout.

We fit in a couple twisty runs, of course interrupted by the climb back up. 

That’s when elephant lays down in the snow. 

Catching his breath

But he lays there, a bit too long 

And my wellness radar kicks in. 

You OK bud? 

Papa 

he says 

I think I need my inhaler 

We’ve been here before, so I don’t jump to high alert, 

But alarm bells go off, and my heart leaps, just a little, into my throat 

Can you make it to the top of the hill? 

I think so. 

Which is good, because he’s getting too heavy to easliy carry.

He is resilient 

Always 

He’s been a survivor from the moment he landed in my arms, all slick and slidy, the journey out a bit too fast and the breathing soon to become a bit labored 

He would, of course, survive.

Fast forward 13 and he, being a survivor, stands up and trudges 

So, I do too 

We walk in concert through the deep snow 

He needs to pause, often.

I make a quick call to mama and let her know that we need puffs

Snow worn path, step-by-step soldiers making our way 

 We halt, and gaze. Squint, together. 

He leans on me 

His icy breath clouds our view

And we know we will survive, together.

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