A cold, stinging sensation bites my toes as if it were a thick swarm of hungry mosquitoes hunting on their pray with no such thing as mercy. My head throbs as I try my pure best to ignore it, to just forget about it, to just make it go away.
A cold, stinging sensation bites my toes as if it were a thick swarm of hungry mosquitoes hunting on their pray with no such thing as mercy. My head throbs as I try my pure best to ignore it, to just forget about it, to just make it go away. But sadly I can’t. Its not as if I can control that the crisp winter air is bitterly freezing, especially when I’m trapped within my family’s silver, mud splattered van with only the hushed company of my worrying dad. I suddenly come to the conclusion that glancing out the glassy car window may help me ease my frazzled mind and shivering body therefore I then whip my head around to have a look. Images of lofty evergreens covered with a fresh frosting of snow, murky ice glazing the top of the rode and glistening snowflakes dancing to the earth are a few of the unwanted sights my eyes capture.
“Really?” I question, “Do I have to have yet another reminder that my genius dad figured that it would be perfectly fine to travel to a ski resort in February in a mini van!? One that dose not own snow tries or even a pair of chains! As if there is no chance at all you would find a lick of snow or ice on the way to a mountain!” Yup, I have to have that brutal reminder. And yeah, I guess our mini van had to get annoyingly stuck as we attempted to pull out from the drive way of the Bull Dog Hotel we were staying at in the Silver Star Mountain Resort. And recently now at the base of a wee hill that leads to the entrance to the high way that will guide my family and I home. “Why are we going home so soon again? Oh that’s right. My mom, dad, brother and I returning from our two day skiing vacation to the Silver Star Mountain resort in
“You okay back there?” my dad spontaneously inquires from the driver’s seat.
“Yeah, just a little numb though.”
“Don’t worry, mom and Brian will be back in no time from the hotel with somebody to sand the hill so we can leave this place.”
“I hope,” I mutter.
“Hmm…this hasn’t really been our vacation has it?”
“Not at all.” And once again I’m dunked within the draining cycle of pondering about how this unsteady journey has gone completely wrong. Recalling the beginning of the dark problems I do, where it started with discussing about whether or not we should go because of reasons that currently escape me. This debating ate up a whole of two days causing us to descend upon this expedition a day late when we figured indeed we should go. Moving on, when we at last found ourselves unpacking in the midst of the beige hotel room a new, horrid discovery was constructed. Dad forgot his ski pants. Hence having to call it quits on this vacation thanks to the fact that he and my mom-who doesn’t ski by the way-wouldn’t let my older brother and I ski on a strange mountain alone. And last but not least is the cherry on top of course, our mini van being unable to climb up an icy hill. “Dad?”
“I think we need a vacation… from this vacation.”
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