Sometimes I say something that sounds cute or clever in the moment but doesn't work out so well in real life.
My granddaughter is in the earliest stage of what I hope is a long love affair with skiing. Her mode of transportation to the top of each run something called a magic carpet. She is not quite prepared for the next challenge, the ski lift. Until then she travels by a kind of on the ground escalator, moving her to the apex of each hill.
As she had readied for the winter, I had informed her of what it was like when her mommy was little. I reported giving her mom "free rides" when she tired on the slopes. A kind of reward for all the hard effort. She would travel downhill for short distances with me holding onto her, until she was rested and ready to go once more. I definitely think my granddaughter stopped listening at “free ride”.
Recently, we came out of the lodge where her main reason for being here, the break for french fries and hot chocolate, of course with whipped cream, had concluded. However, she was a bit reluctant to renew her undertaking on the snow.
"I'll tell you what. Instead of your having to walk in your skis up to that ridge, I'll be your magic carpet and give you a free ride up there." In an instant I realized the error of my ways. But it was too late.
"You are a magic carpet." With that, she jumped into my arms, her skis on either side of me, and up we climbed. And when we reached this tiny summit, she got off, turned and made the short journey down to where this undertaking began. And then we did it again. And again. I had now, once and forever, been redefined.
So, if you happen to be at the same mountain as I in the coming weeks and you witness an old man carrying some most precious baggage from here to there, just shake your head in knowing recognition of yet another of my seemingly endless list of defects and move on.
Sometimes I should stop and think of the consequences before I let words escape from my brain. But that would be like politely asking a raging river to stop flowing. Some things are just beyond one’s capacity to control.
I been doing that my whole life. Offering up and then regret setting in. But in this case it was worth it.
What an absolutely delightful story.
LouP
8A