Racing down the hill on waxed strips of fiberglass, the wind is heavy, pounding in my ears. It’s almost disorienting but I’m in control. The snow is both my partner and adversary–loving and hating my skis with each push of my knees.
My speed picks up as I descend the massive moguled hill, the pressure of my knees driving into each small ascent of the mounded snow. So easy to make a mistake, my training and practice take over my mind as the frantic rhythm of the cutting snow echoes the melody of Disturbed in my ear buds.
In the briefest of heartbeats, my course changes, driving me faster than I can correct into the trees lining the hill. I make contact, unable to stop myself, The strongly supple branch skewering through my left eye. My breathing slows as I hang there, hoping someone will see me, someone will come to my rescue. I know my brain is dying, bringing my body with it into the great beyond.
© 2018 Julianne Snow