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Gri Skiing: A Short Story

Decent Essays
I stand atop the glistening mountain, unable to comprehend my senses. My eyes are overwhelmed as they attempt to absorb everything, though they can never see it all. The snow-covered peaks stand alone, yet together, rising and falling in the distance until they meet the horizon. The clouds shiver and cry; their frozen tears drift by me, occasionally touching my face and rolling down my cheeks. The mountain pines are wrapped in a white silhouette. The aspens maintain an empty luster; their rustling amplifies the feeling of isolation. My ears ring from the whistling breeze which fades into white noise. A burning sensation fills my lungs as I inhale, the blistering scent always having been a favorite of mine. As I flex my toes, I detect the motion, but do not feel the sensation of my skis floating over the sea of winter. I am home. I am as free as one man can feel, disconnected from the burdens and tribulations of life and actually living. I have always been a methodical person, planning out every aspect of my future from the hardest of choices to the most basic daily tasks. I leave nothing to chance, controlling my fate and where the journey of life takes me. The daunting thought of losing my…show more content…
My skis are an extension of my legs, of my body, of my being. I feel every flake of snow, every patch of ice, and every stone concealed beneath the blanket of white wonder. Racing down Christmas Tree Gully, I am untouched by fear as I weave between trees and boulders; shooting down the steep gradient without considering speed. The guarded part of my mind is suppressed by exhilaration and replaced with spontaneity. I do not calculate each cut my edges make through the mountain, rather I allow the topography to take me downhill, a river finding its way to the mouth of the sea. Everything around me flourishes as I flow across the blank surface. The snow is untouched, except for the occasional prints of the black-capped
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