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#eastbowl
May 21, 2015

On one bright sunshiney day last January, our family skied with our good friends. We aimed our skis into Snowbowl’s East Bowl without talking about it first. A few turns in I whispered that it was my kids’ first time in the bowls. It was their kids’ first time too. All four tiny humans held the tips of their skis together, their little quads straining against gravity as they talked and sang their way through the deep snow exactly like kids who grow up skiing together every weekend.

And then it all went south in the East. One child had to poop. One was suddenly unable to turn. One went too fast and out of ear shot. One crashed into another and tears rolled down the mountain with rogue skis.

All four parents sweated through it, taking deep breathes, taking turns with each others’ kids. Straining our backs, swallowing our swears. Using encouraging, empathetic words. And the inevitable statement of fact: there is only one way to the Shirley Temple down there.

It took damn near forever to get off that slope. And then we hit a narrow trail through the woods that I swear was uphill. I am pretty sure it was my idea to make the cut over to Longhorn, thinking it would be a better run out for the tired offspring. My optimism was an empty hope. The adults lined up, each with a child holding on to a pole as we trudged through deep, sticky snow, literally dragging our moaning kids to Longhorn. They moaned all the way down.

We made it, laughing into the flats and unclipping from our bindings. Ever since that day “East Bowl” is a thing we say to each other. You know, if something feels like quick sand, like a shit show, like too much to handle at one time: we hold hands and EASTBOWL our way through it.

This last week included a broken appliance and floor, a conflict, an allergic reaction, a sleepless night, a death. This last week included a fixed appliance and floor, a resolution, a recovery, a restful day and plans for a whole lot of family to gather in eastern Montana this weekend to celebrate a life.

The thing is, there is probably at least one moment every day when we find ourselves skiing a pitch, wishing we weren’t there. We might fall hard or have to poop or make poor choices by not listening when our brilliant, usually-right mother yells STOP! We might feel angry about it, we might sit down and cry about it. But eventually we square our shoulders up with the fall line and link one turn into another turn. We know there are other skiers on that hill too. And they care about us. They want to give us a hug, help us get to the valley floor and buy us an age-appropriate beverage. We needn’t look beyond the ten feet in front of us because after we slide those ten feet, we can focus on the next ten. All the way to the end of the run and into the beginning of the next run, supported by the earth and each other. #eastbowl

:: :: ::

*disclaimer* Just in case somebody who knows Snowbowl sees that photo and thinks “that’s not the east bowl!”, you are correct. It is the outhouse trees. I couldn’t find a snap of the east bowl! 😉

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10 Comments


blair stone-schneider
May 21, 2015 at 11:23 AM

Oh my this. Yes. All of it. This has been the story of the last 6 months or so of our lives. I needed this today– thank you.



Hana Tawathie
May 21, 2015 at 12:59 PM

I always love reading your words. Leaning into my family as bigger small says goodbye to 2nd grade and transitions to summertime freedom, and then as my smaller small looks forward to beginning Kindergarten in September. These last few days home alone with him are like precious drops running through my hands, and yet still so very every-day ordinary in our routine. Joy and fear and nostalgia all mixed in my heart right now.



Melinda
May 21, 2015 at 1:27 PM

I love those abbreviations we share with our dear ones that tell them exactly where we are mentally. EASTBOWL indeed. You can smile and chuckle and squeeze their hand and keep moving forward. I also love that you have enough perspective to step back and see it and define it. I hope the family gathering is full of healing and peace for everyone, in celebration of your loved one’s life.



Kara
May 21, 2015 at 4:06 PM

This puts such a smile one face. Love that we get to sweat and breath it out together!



Kara
May 21, 2015 at 4:08 PM

*on my



Jen
May 21, 2015 at 5:55 PM

Such heartfelt and raw writing. My family has had an “east bowl ” year so far,
but you learn who is rock steady enough to lean on, and who is ready to freely give support.
Thinking of you and your family. May you find beauty and strength in the next 10 yards;)



Melissa
May 22, 2015 at 8:35 AM

Yes. Oh, yes.



trbholt
May 22, 2015 at 4:08 PM

“eastbowl”….Will this take the place of my favorite 4-letter word? Probably not but I can say it anywhere and only I will know what it REALLY means! Great analogy ski/life Burb…
Love you to the moon and back….Mom



Maria B
May 25, 2015 at 7:03 AM

When my husband calls home and it’s a shitshow, when he asks how it’s going, I say I’m in the weeds. He knows when he gets home, he’s going to have to take over for a few b/c this Momma is about to peel her face off. My 6.5 (going on 16 apparently) y/o is rrrrrrrrreally pushing my buttons lately and it seems every.single.thing is a bit of an argument. She must always be right. Ugh. Anyway, all that to say, I feel this. Yep. 100%.



Jennifer
May 29, 2015 at 10:01 AM

Ah, who would have known that my job turned into a shit show this week. Literally the day after I read your honest and thoughtful post, I received notice that my job and 24 others would terminate by year end. I’m tired and numb and waiting for the sting to stop. BUT, but, but I’m planting my hope in good seeds that this change is the best thing that ever happened to me and to my family.

My condolences are with your family.



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