January 10, 2020
Early morning, my dad opens the door to my room, the light from the hallway shines so brightly that I squint. It's still dark outside, but he announces: “It’s time to go skiing.” I roll out of bed with sleepy eyes and tangled hair. I start to dress in the clothes my mom helped me lay out the night before: first long johns, then wool ski socks, smoothing out any wrinkles as I slide them onto my feet. Next, I pull a wool sweater over my head, followed by snow bibs, carefully clicking each buckle below each shoulder. I pack a wool hat, goggles, gloves, and scarf into a bag. I’m ready.