Surpassed by a son

I'm not a skier, I'm a flatlander. Always have been, always will be.

Except there was that period of a few short, eventful years when I lived in Denver. Everybody skied. Even the One True Wife and her little daughters skied. Those who disdained skiing still cross-country skied. (skiied?)

But Gabe has always loved the outdoors, and always loved challenging himself physically. He is not a risk-taker, but he is someone who wants to do extremely well those things that he chooses to do.

This weekend we're reprising our Presidents' Day trip to Park City, Utah, with a friend of mine and his son who, though 5 years Gabe's senior, still treats him like a contemporary (something Gabe's become accustomed to with teenagers).

This other dad and his son are excellent skiiers, so they go in one direction when we ski, and Gabe and I go another, toward the easier runs. I ski, Gabe snowboards. This year, I can't keep up with him. Partly it's because he's just a better athlete than me. Partly it's because my body aches more than his, after awhile.

And partly because I love to be behind him, watching him navigate the world without me in his sight. I love to watch him go from heel to toe, or from left foot in front to right foot in front. I love to watch him fall and see how he turns it into a turn, bouncing right back up on his board.

I like to watch him watching out for other people, and being alarmed and a little irritated when people don't watch out for him.

I like when we're sitting on the lift together, and all of a sudden, he hits me. Or nudges me and says, "Mean." Meaning that's my main quality. A joke, I'm sure. I'll nudge him back and he'll say "See? Mean. Meanmeanmean."

And I like how he stops and looks for me, from far down the slope, and when he sees me laboring toward him, sits down to wait for me.

That won't last much longer. But it's had its day. And a great day it's been.

--T.A.