The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

It’s clear to me that Maryellen wants to ski. So even though the last time I was on skis was the worst day of my life, I tell her that we can go ahead and ski. We pull dusty old boots and skis and poles out of the equipment in the shed, and soon we’re both strapped into our skis. They weigh a ton, and the boots do, too. The equipment is not meant for cross-country skiing, and it’s not like the ski equipment I’m used to at home. I feel like I have cement blocks on my feet.

Maryellen clumsily clomps over to the pond. She says we can start skiing there. It’s flat so we can get used to the skis. I’m not much better on my skis than Maryellen is at first. We both wobble and weave our way to the pond. When we get there, we fall down hard. And for some reason, this makes us both laugh. And the more I laugh, the more the tight knot I’ve had in my chest whenever I’ve even thought about skiing loosens. Maryellen has reminded me that skiing is supposed to be fun.

We solely push forward on our skis. Maryellen copies me, and soon both of us are skiing smoothly. We herringbone our way up the back of the pond to the trail, and I show Maryellen how to squat down in a snowplow, the tips of her skis pointing in. We push off and down the trail we go. I’m steady as a rock, and Maryellen is doing pretty well for a first-timer. We round a curve, pick up speed, and swoop across the snow. I see a bump and fly over it, landing with a soft thump. It feels wonderful.

It occurs to me that maybe, when I get back home, I can tell Emma that I miss just skiing for fun. Maybe we can start going to the ski mountain early and ski one or two runs before practice like we used to. I bet Emma will say yes.

Maryellen catches up to me and asks if I’m sure this is my first time skiing? I admit that I have skied before. But I thought I didn’t like it. But now, thanks to Maryellen, I remember how much I love it.