a short trip to upstate new york
my dad and i took a trip to bristol this weekend, a small town in upstate new york, which (to the conjectures of the town historian , a woman named karen, we had met on the chairlift this morning) sits at the foothills of the american applachians and in the exact centre of two of the finger lakes within the state. when it snows, the town residents huddle at home under feet of white powder towering that of your common man. on days like these when the incoming winter storm set to make fall on monday leads with a flush of hot air, the moist air can be felt and low hanging clouds overflow over the hills, blanketing the pines trees in slush that begins to fall once its too heavy to stay up. if i had read past the first chapter of the twillight series, id describe the town as coming right out of the novel. karen describes the town as "simply stunning". during the summer months, describing how when the sun begins to set, if one visits the peak of the skihill, the valleys are first to go dark, painting the landscape in the pattern of a tiger as the sun's rays fall further down the horizon
i get sick when i leave the city for too long. car rides along the interstate bring moments for my mind for wander. in leaving for a destination i reminisce on the all i left behind, conversations i should have had, nights i should have slept over. my world shrinks when i leave the city, the black branches of pine reaching around me in the white of the snow, until the only space i know is my car seat. while poor road conditions are the greatest hazard when in a car, the mental condition of the driver is often the deciding factor of whether one lives or not. it's only when i venture outside it's bounds that i begin to feel how integral it is to who am i am.
my willingness to go ski is based solely off the love for my dad rather than a care for the sport. the poor circulation in my hands and feet, the red hue to my face left by the alpine air, my spent thighs - all of it a testament to my dedication to him. alone in the chairlift together, our conversation topics last as long as it takes for us to reach the top of the mountain. questions about how to manage my finances and the hate i have for my job, opinions on the ski conditions and comparisons made to previous trips, hopes to travel abroad and ideas for the family's annual summer vacation - i choose lighthearted subjects, picking a new one each time the charlift swings around at the base station. covered in rain and shivering on our last run of the afternoon before we were set to make a break, "lets go home, ive had enough" comes out my fathers mouth, i breathe a sigh of relief coming down the moutain. i'll be back to my habitat before nightfall, my normal.