I'm missing the smell of sunscreen splattered in white blotches across my wind chapped cheeks, that will soon blend in with the snow
I'm missing the three layers of socks I yank on and stuffing my boots with shakeable hand warmers because my toes always freeze
I miss the sound of heel toe heel toe heel toe as the hard plastic boots click against grated metal stairs down to the buses
I miss the smell of hot chocolate and barbecue in the air and snow flurries tenderly kiss my face floating downwards
I miss the sound of the chair lifts thud thud thud and clicking my skis together to shake off the fresh powder that has accumulated
I miss the sound of my poles hitting each other accidentally, and the dots they make in fresh champagne powder between the glades
I miss the feeling of relief when I ski into the four points lodge by sunshine peak and grab a cafeteria trey and get my usual macaroni and cheese
I miss the feeling of watching snow flurries melt as they land inside my hot chocolate that tastes cheap and watery but so warm
I miss singing songs on the lifts, especially the quads, and deciding which runs to do next, black blue or green?
I miss saying mountain words like "elk head, jackrabbit, slopes, hockey stop, sunshine express, morningside, storm peak, thunder- head" the list goes on
I miss feeling completely at home in a helmet, huge goggles, fleece chilis and a ski jumper
I miss Steamboat, I miss skiing, I can't wait for this year.