Her head on the arm of my chair, tail tucked between her legs, a quiet, attentive audience stands by my side. It seems like it's been raining for days. Dark and chilly outside, a weak sun has finally broken through the clouds, but my doggie doesn't want to go out, and I certainly understand. A tried and true friend, sometimes her moods seemed to blend with mine. I twitch my fingers through short, black hair.
"Thinking back about one of those ski vacations, one that was many, many moons ago, there's still a few more things you need to hear, Lettie Lou."
With those words my pet lifted her head, drew in a deep sigh and plopped down beside me, covering her face with her big paws, as if she had been there before and was somewhat ashamed of what she might be about to hear. Leaning over to talk to my doggie, I conversed with her as I went back through the years and continued mulling over a long ago ski trip.
***
Some of the family had been at Rebel Holler, our mountain home in Steamboat Springs, Colorado several days ahead of me, and they were already on a ski run somewhere on Mount Werner. I would be riding up on my own but was planning to join them a little later in the day.
My troubles began with me buying a lift ticket for the week--the snowplow slid down the hill from there.
"What have I done?" I wondered, brushing snowflakes off my nose and trying to outstare the lady behind the ticket selling booth who had jutted her head back in a suspicious stance. It turned out that I had written the check for my ski pass on an invalid bank account. It had taken some doing, but I had finally taken care of it with a credit card. An uncomfortable silence stretched between the ticket seller and me.
"Have a good day." The lady gave me a fake smile, pushed the weeklong pass toward me and closed her booth.
My husband's words rang in my ears."We're getting older. Pay attention to what you're doing."
I could visualize a slight head shake, and his dimples deepening, as he went on, "You're a southern lady. Always mind your manners. No flim, flam. Focus, Lottie Bee. Focus."
Finally getting the ticket taken care of, I set my mind to do just that. At my age, this ski vacation may well have been my last schuss down the mountain, and I planned to keep things in control, safe and sound for the rest of this trip.
***
A short while after buying the ticket, riding the gondola up Mount Werner, I stepped out, and slipped on my skis. I cut across a short run, caught a chair lift on up higher, then unloaded.
Cruising down the ski slope Tornado, a man took a bad tumble right in front of me. It looked like he couldn't get up so I skied over and stopped. "I wish I could, but I can't help you up, sir. I've recently become somewhat more than a senior citizen." I poked his boot with my pole. "But bless your heart. If you need me to though, I'll find somebody who can make sure you're all right. Tell me your name."
A snow-crusted form, his head covered in a ski cap that looked like a red, white and blue bath mat rolled over and looked up at me. His eyes went directly to my face.
He cast me a long look, then he smiled.
"Well, hotty toddy," the snow-crusted man lay stretched out. "How are you, Lottie?"
"Who are you?" I asked.
A moment of silence hung between us. The stretched out man seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
"Well, flim, flam." He grunted, then shoved his goggles up."You oughta know who I am. I'm your brother," he groaned. "I'm Alvin."
I came close to having a meltdown.
"Well, you do look kind of like you," I sputtered. "And this altitude. It can do funny things to your brain."
Big, swirling, fluffy snowflakes covered Alvin's body and our skis. He pushed up with his ski poles.
"We'd better start on down the mountain." Brother Alvin rolled his eyes, nudged his goggles down, and nodded his head. The thick, woolen cap that crowned his head looked like it could have been a religious gurus turban. Almost covered in a thick, glistening sheet of ice, I barely made out the words, Ole Miss.
"And, it's almost cocktail time back home." His voice trailed off as if he had a hard time speaking.
"Well, flim, flam. Ole Miss, by darn. Let's meet at the base," I said.
***
"How could I have done some of the things I did, Lettie?"
There was not even a slight flap of the dog's tail. Her paws never left her face.
"Maybe you're trying to tell me. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie." I leaned over and rubbed her back. "But oh, bim, bam. There was a little bit more you need to hear and that I want to remember about those days and times."
With those words Miss Lettie Lou yawned and stretched. She licked my hand as if she were trying to comfort me, plodded away, and scratched the back door with her front paws.
