by Merisa Sherman
We fell in love skiing together, our turns interlacing as we got caught up in the rhythmic pattern. Dancing together down the mountain, we wove in and out of each other’s turns like skiers through the trees. Our souls intertwined, our ski souls forever merged as our hearts beat a sacred rhythm, joined together like a pendulum swing. We can feel each other, like two ends of the same string, from across the trail.
There is a magic, an unexplainable energy that binds us together. When one skis without the other, we can feel the emptiness, like no one is there to pull us down the fall line. We carve our tracks in the snow, as initials into a tree, a declaration of our love for each other made not once, but repeatedly, with infinite adjustments made for infinite variables in the snow and in life. Our own journeys, intertwined with the mountain, become a melody full of grace and love.
When you look up at a ski resort, the first people you probably notice are the large groups of bros, aggressively swarming all over the mountain. There are small groups of older men, standing at the base area, analyzing the resort’s decision making while comparing their physical ailments. And, of course, you look to be sure that enough children are interested in the sport to ensure its preservation for future generations. But look deeper and you will see an industry preserved not by these large groups, but by couples whose love for each other is intertwined with their individual love of the mountain and skiing.
A couple that skis together, skis all the time. They play together on snow. It is that duo who will get in the car every Friday night to make the long drive to their favorite ski resort. They will join other couples who have also made the weekly pilgrimage and they will laugh and party the entire time they are here. They plan romantic ski getaways across the country and around the world. And, yes, perhaps they will even move to a beloved ski town to raise their children to the mountain life. But no matter what life throws at them, they will always have a love of skiing that joins them together.
There is some argument as to exactly how the BF and I got paired up, but our first meeting was not a handshake or a beer at the bar, but on skis. While working at ski school, a morning meeting synchronized skiing exercise had us literally trying to match our turns to each other’s rhythm while descending. In hindsight, it was the easiest ski drill I have ever tried. We weren’t following each other, we simply became one skier, dancing down the mountain. Our synchronicity was all-consuming but ended abruptly as we we quickly shuffled off to receive our students for the day.
After a long first day of teaching ski school, I was glowing from the inside out. My mind was already spinning with ideas of the next day’s lesson as I walked back to the instructor locker room.
Only he was there. That boy from the morning meeting. And he was staring at me, like he had been waiting for just this moment. He sauntered over, skis in hand, and used the best pick-up line this future ski bum had ever heard. It worked like a charm 18 years ago, and I’m pretty sure when he uses it again this morning, I’ll fall in love all over again.
“Wanna go skiing?”