Christmas In The Valley
Parents fly free for airline employees, and so my mother has been out to see me a few times now. Getting my father on a plane is a more difficult task, as he's been a pilot longer than I've been alive. Planes are a day at the office for him. But he ponied up and flew for four hours, and I met them both at the SLC airport.
First thing they wanted to do was go see where I snowboard. I think they wanted to see what would eventually become my final resting place. We stood at the bottom of the bunny slope and I pointed at this turn and that turn, saying how much fun it was. It took me a few moments to notice that they'd both turned a little green.
"We're buying you a helmet," my mom says.
I had to get 'em in the snow somehow, and snowboarding wasn't gonna be it. So we went tubing. My mother and I had done that last year, and my father went along with it, though if he was eager, I couldn't tell. This time a blizzard kicked up, and it stung all the way down for the two of us that weren't wearing the one pair of goggles I brought along. Dad had a good time, though he seemed to be looking for the beer cooler sometimes, because that's how we Southerners go tubing. And we had hot chocolate inside a yurt, which is a bizarre experience for three Louisianians.
And all too soon, they had to go back home. So merry Christmas from me and my family, and especially to my sister, who stayed home to take care of the horses so mom and dad could come visit. Your visit is next, and it contains a snowboard...