Skiing

We live within an hour or two of several ski resorts--and not just bunny slopes, places where the Olympics have been held within recent memory. C. and the girls have gotten themselves all outfitted with ski gear and went off on New Year's Ever for a successful day on the slopes.

Yesterday morning they went off again. At about noon I answered the phone:

Hi, Mommy. E. had been deputized to call.

How's the skiing? I pictured them mid-mountain at the resort.

Oh, we didn't go skiing because of the avalanche. We went for a hike instead. We're going to have lunch now. Bye!

And then a dial tone. I sat down for a minute or two. Evidently they were all fine. Had the avalanche happened on the road? At the resort? On the slope as they were skiing down it? E.'s brevity, while admirable, did leave some room for questions.

Turns out that the entire resort was shut down because of an avalanche; the road itself was closed. They tried to go to another resort instead, but so did everyone else. The traffic was impossible. So they went for a hike, and stopped off at an auberge for French Sunday lunch (picture considerably more than a slice of pizza), and came home early. Tired, satisfied, with another story to tell. And if I had just a little more grey hair--it hadn't occured to me, before, to put avalanches on my list of maternal cares--well, I think it was worth it. Probably.