Christmas at Mammoth
Squeezing my skinny body through the crowds,
wrestling with my ski poles,
clipping legs,
I try not to scratch the web of adult skis in front of me.
Hitching up my knickers, one
more check:
are my laces tied?
Paula, my friend, follows
in my wake.
A breeze of low muttering--
Unhappy people;
they don’t like pushy children.
Oh, but this is bigger than they are!
Our mission today,
well—it’s huge:
a contest with our siblings.
Each Christmas break
we try for a record number of ticket holes punched.
Failing that,
at least to outdo our younger siblings.
Every time we make a ski run,
our tickets are punched.
This tradition has been going on for years--
Paula and I are, usually, victorious, and yes, we
have our ways and means!
Kissing up to the “hole-puncher men”
for extra holes has
become a practiced art
Pushing toward the front, to get more runs in,
is paramount to our cause!
This evening we’ll sit
in the cozy lodge,
drinking cups of hot chocolate,
taking off our stiff clunky boots,
and after rubbing our frozen toes by the fire,
we’ll proudly count our ticket holes,
reminding our dads
that they got their money’s worth.
