Just a few days before Christmas my father took me skiing at Mount Baker. He saw it as an opportunity for us to spend time together since the separation. I really did love my father, but sometimes I didn’t know what to expect from him, and it scared me. You see, we’re very different. My father is very daring and living in the moment, and me, well, I like to have structure. I’m used to having everything planned out, right down to having my hangers numbered so they rotate correctly. So you can imagine the surprise and shock when he once snuck me into a night club the last time I saw him. Mother was really upset with him and I didn’t know if we’d ever get to spend time together again. But seeing as it was the holidays and she knew how much I loved him and that he’d take very good care of me, she let us go skiing, as long as I was home in time for dinner on Christmas Eve. On the morning of check out I was very excited. Thoughts of mother’s special Christmas dinner and all the Christmas goodies were racing through my mind and had my mouth watering. The red candles and the smell of pinecone, the lights on the beautiful 7 foot tree in the living room. But just as we were approaching the front desk of the resort, my father stopped and cocked his head to the side as if he were a dog hearing a strange sound. He turned around and looked outside. I followed him to see what had caught his attention, curious about what had him all out of sorts. Then I saw what he was seeing, snow, snow everywhere.
It was different that the snow that had been falling the past few days. This was soft and light, like powder. At that moment my father completely forgot about checking out and being on our way to my mothers and headed for the slopes. He said something about this snow was different and there was no way he was going to miss this. My complaining and fretting about didn’t exist to him. All he had in mind was the snow and how he knew for sure we’d still make it back home in time. So I had no choice but to follow.
After about an hour I lost track of time. My hands and feet were beginning to get numb and I could barely see the trails ahead of me. Not a moment too soon, my father had finally decided to turn in our skis and head home. But as usual, the moment I began to picture being in the warmth of my home, a state trooper had stopped us. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The storm had gotten so bad that the road was closed and we’d have to wait it out. I was so mad at my father, I felt as if he’d done it on purpose just to spite my mother and have me to himself. At that moment I knew my father had a plan in mind. Never in my life have I ever seen him listen to someone telling him what to do, so I knew something was up when he calmly thanked the