WellesleyWeston Magazine


Launched in 2005, WellesleyWeston Magazine is a quarterly publication tailored to Wellesley and Weston residents and edited to enrich the experience of living in two of Massachusetts' most desirable communities.

Issue link: http://wellesleywestonmagazine.epubxp.com/i/782418

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Page 227 of 229

224 W e l l e s l e y W e s t o n M a g a z i n e | s p r i n g 2 0 1 7 graham, my youngest son, and I are forty years apart, but we learned to downhill ski at the same time. As a five- year-old he lasted one day in ski school before begging to ski with the family. The upside was he could go at his own pace, fast. The downside was occasionally he was stuck skiing with me. As I made my way down the bunny hill, feeling triumphant in my Ski Market rentals because I had not fallen, he would wait at the bottom, tapping his ski tips. "Are you determined to be the last one down the mountain?" Thanks to the kindness of a lift operator, I learned that if you look back rather than face forward paralyzed with fear, you see the chair coming and avoid yelling every time it hits you behind the knees. A ski instructor taught me that French fries and pizza are not just options for lunch at the lodge, but essential ways to place one's skis to navigate the mountain. Each year I set a goal for myself to measure my improve- ment. My first goal was to make it off the bunny hill. In subse- quent years, I learned to take the fast chairlift to the top and ski down the entire mountain—albeit sticking to blue squares. Over the years, Graham became my favorite ski instructor. Like Goldilocks, I tried them all. My husband is so patient, I feel patronized. My eldest son likes to show off, which scares me to death. My middle son crossed to the dark side and snowboards. Graham coaches me in a way that feels just right. Early on, he told me to sing (to myself of course) as I ski. This was a huge concession given that when he was two he told me my singing gave him stomachaches. Down the mountain I come, singing "Old MacDonald Had a Farm," "Climb Every Mountain," and any other catchy tune I know the words to—impressed by how well his instruction helped me relax. More than a decade has passed since we started skiing, but when conditions are tricky, Graham still offers to ski with me on my first run of the day. He skis ahead, then stops, turns, and looks up the mountain and calls, "Ski to me, Mom!" Using wide turns, I ski down to meet him. He skis a bit further, stops, calls to me, and so it goes as he guides me safely to the bottom. Once there, I release him to the land of black diamonds where he belongs, and I am content to be the last one down the mountain. narrative capturing a moment suburban sketches creative expressions your voice painting a portrait reflections Last One Down the Mountain M A G G I E M U L Q U E E N writer last but not least Be Creative This page is designed to give our readers the opportunity to express themselves creatively. If you have a short piece of fiction or nonfiction (300-500 words), a poem, illustration, or photograph depicting life in Wellesley and Weston, we would love to hear from you. Please email your submissions to jill@wellesleywestonmagazine.com.

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