I dreamed that I was riding up the gondola at Beaver Creek. It was fall and the sun was warm but the grass was still brilliantly green, which is rare in Colorado due to the dryness. There were Christmas trees with wreaths on them and snow high in the mountains. The colors were magnificent. As I rode up the mountain I was crying and laughing at the same time. Crying because it was so beautiful and I was sad that I didn’t live there anymore, and laughing because I am happy that I left.
Things have been turbulent since I have returned to Boston. Being single again after nearly four years in a relationship is a big adjustment. At first I was angry, then sad, then I wanted to “start a fight” – not literally, but more like the way Pink sings about her breakup in the song “So What.” Only in the last couple of weeks do I feel that my heart isn’t being held together with stitches and ready to sink or explode at any negative thought or comment.
I feel stronger, although I don’t know why. I have plenty of things to look forward to, including my half share at Killington where I’ll be spending many weekends with friends. I’ve also been travelling a lot with work lately, which gets me out of the stimulus of Boston. Where I go from here, I really don’t know. Deep down I still want to be in the mountains tromping along in fluffy powder with Zion. I reminisce of spending time at Bent Gate looking at the gear with anticipation of the snowflakes to come. I dream of cold cozy winters, hut trips, sitting by the fireside with coffee and watching the snow fall. And I long for someone who enjoys the same.
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.