A week from now, we'll be somewhere in the vicinity of a view much like this one, celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary. We're headed back to the same place we spent our honeymoon; back then, neither of us had a clue how to strap a ski on, much less how to get to the top of the hill and then down. Since then we've both learned to jump on the ski lift and then get down the hill without too much drama. She's better at it than I am, but that doesn't surprise me because she's better at everything. I'm used to being bested and to losing.


She never tells me ahead of time if she's really good at something. The first time we shot a game of pool she neglected to tell me she'd been playing from around age 3, and that her father built a fame around the pool table so that she could reach it. You don't want to challenge her to 9 ball, unless you enjoy being humiliated. When we decided to bowl in a league, she never mentioned that she had an average around 180, and had come close to a perfect game once or twice. When she wants to do something well, she damn well does it well.

Skiing is no different. We took a one day how-to course, and she was instantly good at it. I, on the other hand, fell on my face a few dozen times, and it took a while before I could manage anything other than the bunny slopes.

But, skiing isn't the reason we're going; we're going because we wanted to go back to where it pretty much started, at least from a matrimonial POV. Even though we had eloped, I wanted her to at least have a decent honeymoon, and a cabin in the woods during winter was something I could arrange on short notice. I rented what I thought was an upscale cabin with a hot tub; what we got was a one room cabin with a whirlpool bathtub. She never complained (I think she had other things on her mind) and once in a while has mentioned wanting to go back. So we will.

This time we do have much better accommodations (I made sure of the hot tub; forget the kinky possibilities, she still needs it to keep from stiffening up) and a killer view of the lake, and I suspect this time around we'll actually see more of the sun and will try to make a few runs down the hill, depending on how she feels.

The day we get there will be 7 months since her accident, and if I'd had the presence of mind to consider it then, I wouldn't have thought this trip would even be possible. I don't care if we ski, I don't care if we have sex or not, I don't care if all we do is sit there and rake in the view; we made it to fifteen years through her considerable willpower and tenacity to live, and a grace I can only assume comes from something bigger than either of us.

And no, you can't come with us.

There just might be sex, and I don't need an audience ;)