Cupids Peak

by Lee Jacquot

As someone who’s lived in Colorado her whole life, I know how sometimes the news can be completely wrong. This is definitely one of those times. My fingernails dig into the soft padding of my palm as I clench them harder around the rubber handle holding me inside the ski gondola. White flurries slap angrily against the window while the whistle of growing winds seems as loud as an oncoming train. The storm came out of nowhere and decided to descend on me when I was thirty feet off the ground. My heart thrums in my chest with every second as the lift ascends up the mountain. I know I’m safe, but if the wind doesn’t stop, and they have to stop the gondola… well, I can’t think of a worse outcome than some rescue crew coming to get me. For the next few minutes, I send silent pleas to Mother Nature to get me to the top. I want to take this as a sign that I should have kept my ass on my comfortable couch, but try my best to stay positive. It’s hard, though, when my body’s swaying with every gust and the chains above are singing their sweet melody of tension.