I don't have a good memory for specific events in time. Holidays and birthdays all tend to run together in my mind, forming an endless turkey dinner and birthday cake. I do, however, remember seasons. I can see the seasons of my life in my mind, their associated smells and images and flavors. I like that part of my memory. It makes my life feel like a book with chapters, and I can see the whole of a chapter and turn it around inside of my mind.
This season just past will be the season of cold air and wind chapped cheeks. Of snow. Lots of snow. Of watching my two children transform into big boys, of watching them become expert skiers who fear no double diamond, who fly over jumps and spread eagle their skis in midair. This will be the season that I will remember my husband, the expert skier skiing on abandoned skis from a decade ago, and his awestruck face as we presented him with new skis on Christmas morning. Skis so cool that they're called Mojo's, that fly down the mountain as if they have a mind of their own. This will be the season that I remember feeling my middle aged body strong and limber, that I remember feeling a hint of fearlessness as I let go.
This will be the season that I remember 28 degrees below zero, a blizzard so crazy and windy that it felt like a herd of wild horses pounding down over your head. I will remember the grocery store full of bewildered freezing tourists with temple splitting high altitude headaches on New Year's Eve, cruising the empty produce section and picked over aisles with signs reading due to blizzard and whiteout conditions, no deliveries trying to figure out how to deal with their idea of New Year's Eve dinner without any fresh food.
This will be the season that I remember reaping the benefits of uprooting my family and moving across the Atlantic to a place so high and wild. It will be the season that I remember as magic as its weather and scenery, a season that reminded we why we did what we did in the first place. It will be a season that I will remember as just the beginning.