My dad died. All of the sudden he was gone. Not unexpectedly, just without warning. Without permission.
I needed something. A drive up the Poudre to Cameron Pass. My skis.
On this day there was sunshine. A few inches of fresh snow. And, so rare for the front range, not a hint of wind. Not even up high.
Not enough time, needed to pick up the boy from school. Just skinning up is therapy. I don’t know how to mourn, but I know how to put one ski in front of the other. The snow is forgiving, it’s safe. In those turns I’m okay. And then I’m home, and I’m not okay anymore.