Over the last few years, there is an additional holiday for our family that has become every bit as import and ritualized for us as Christmas or Thanksgiving. Opening Day. Just saying it out loud makes my heart skip a little. It has a feel to it. There are certain smells and tastes and sounds that go along with the day. Certain rituals. But first, the lead-up...
Here we are, two months before, checking our gear and making sure we have our passes. A month- checking our clothing. Two weeks- make sure the cars are ready. A week- try everything on, last minute checks, go into emergency mode over lost or damaged items. A day- fill up with gas. Charge our phones and Bluetooth helmets. Pack our bags. And then we are loading up the car and pulling out of the driveway. It's snowing.
We drive up to Wallace where we start the fireplace and turn the lights down low. We bake pizza and play games as a family while music plays in the background. And then we are heading up to watch The Movie. "Better Off Dead-" a ridiculous little tradition, but we can still quote every word and laugh at every punchline. We have dessert, and then we are laying out our clothes and trying to get some sleep, which is difficult because of the excitement.
Let's interject here to make one thing clear. All of this is not simply about one day. It's not even about skiing. Rather, it's about an entire season. It's about road trips, and frozen faces, and hotel stays, and chair lift rides and eating lunch together. It's about challenging ourselves, and getting lost, and having hard days and doing hard things. It's about being completely absorbed in a single moment, whether that moment be joyful, or proud, or congenial, or scary, or somewhere in between. And really, in a lot of ways, Opening Day feels like it's a celebration of us- as in capital "U" Us- the Hazard Family, being together and being ourselves and having both of those things balance in a way seems to work better in these settings than almost any other.
Morning of- we make a nice breakfast and eat while at the same time putting on layers. It is controlled chaos for a while, but we each take a few quiet moments for ourselves to watch the large snowflakes floating lazily onto the streets and rooftops below. We sip warm beverages. It's going to be a good day.
The drive from our house only takes a few minutes, and then we are walking to the gondola. The falling snow, the music in the village, the outdoor fireplaces, and the people milling about in clunky boots all seem warmly familiar. Welcoming. We give little nods of recognition and acknowledgement to people we recognize from last year. It's here.
We did the first run as a family. A groomer. That is also part of the tradition. We wait at each pitch and check in on each other before going all the way down. And then we are off into small groups. From all over the mountain you can hear woops of unrestrained glee. Something about the movement makes you into a kid again, and you can see it in the people around you as well. Lunchtime is jovial, and you eat cosmic brownies while replaying the highs and lows of the day. And then back for more.
And the next day... And the week after that... And the week after that...
It's going to be a great year and we couldn't have asked for a better start. We had to wait until January last year for conditions like this. On this Thanksgiving season I am so glad and thankful for that November day back in 2017 when we were going stir crazy with small kids in a small house and we only had 12 hours of cold daylight and we decided to go to a ski-swap just so we would have something to do. We spent like a hundred bucks that day and outfitted the whole family. And the rest is history.
Last minute adjustments |
The excitement is real |
Have a good week!
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