Stay Awake

"Did you pack enough socks, Ted?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm 17, not seven. We've been to the cabin loads of times."

"I know, but the mountain will be cold, and we have to keep our feet warm."

"Yes, Mommy," I said with my best imitation 7-year-old voice.

Mom smirked and changed the subject. "Let's get going so we can get there before dark."

I was happy that Mom was still willing to take me to the old ski cabin. Most guys my age don't want to hang with their folks, but since my dad passed from an unexpected heart attack when I was 14, I was a bit clingy. This spring break ski trip was to be our last, because I was joining the army after my senior year.

I fell asleep in the Subaru Outback on the way. I woke up when Mom took a sharp turn at the start of the switchbacks. She slowed way down and said, "Hi, sleepy Ted!' She rubbed my hair. "I'm a little worried about the roads since we had that warm spell and then the flash freeze with newer powder, but so far, so good."

"If anyone can get us there, you can."

We slid around on the road a bit, but Mom knew how to handle sketchy driving conditions.

When there was a wider spot in the road, she pulled over and said, "Let's get out, stretch, and have some trail mix."

In between bites, I asked, "Are you going to let me ski Carson's Pass tomorrow?"

"Let's see if the conditions are good. We'll do Finnigan's Hill first."

"Man, I could do that one in my sleep." I sighed. "I get it, you just want to..."

We heard a distant popping sound, followed by a low rumble.

We both yelled, "Avalanche!" and headed for the car. Mom started the engine and pulled over as close as she could to the cliff. We put on seatbelts. She engaged the emergency brake, and we waited.

"It's probably not even..." I started.

"Shh!" she held up a finger. Instantly, we heard the roaring of a wall of snow and rock. The car was pulled along with it. We were both screaming as we tumbled straight down the switchbacks Mom had so carefully driven. I'm not sure when I lost consciousness.

"Ted! Ted!" My mom was shrieking in my face, at least as far as I could tell in the dark.

"Uhhh," I groaned. Every bit of my body hurt. "Are you okay?" I asked her.

"Yes, but you're bleeding. I felt it on your head. You were out for a good 30 minutes. I called 911, but they can't come until morning because of the danger and the dark. I'm going to have to keep you awake."

"Great, so much for Carson's Pass."

"THAT'S what you're worried about at a time like this?"

"I'm joking, Mom. It feels like I summersaulted all the way down it. At least the car landed upright. Do you think we're safe now?"

"I have no idea. All I did was roll down my window long enough to chop through the snow to get air. We can't get out, but at least we're alive, and we have trail mix and water."

"I'm so sleepy. Are you sure I can't take a short nap?"

"I don't want to risk it. If your body temperature drops too much while you're asleep, you may never wake up, especially with a head injury."

"Tell me something about Dad."

A pause. "Well, as you know, we met at a party after he got out of the army. He was so good-looking. I knew I wanted him right then."

"Mom!"

"Well, it's true. What a body!" She went on to describe their first dance, their first kiss, and implied that there was more that first night they met.

"Fast work, you two! Wait, I wasn't conceived on the night you met, was I? If so, eewww!"

Mom chuckled. "No, you were born two years later. How's your head?"

"It hurts, but my whole body does. Don't you feel like you've been in a drying machine?"

"Yes, but I'm okay. Tell me, do you have any girls you're interested in?"

"No, I'm not going to start something until I'm out of the army. Like Dad."

I was glad Mom had put our winter coats in the back seat. We wrapped ourselves in them, wearing them backwards since we couldn't get them on. Even so, it was frigid. I swore to myself if we got out, I would take a hot bath for a week.

On and on we talked. I thought we would run out of topics, but we didn't. Sometimes, I would be on the verge of nodding off. Mom would pat my leg and speak louder. She talked about Dad and me when I was a kid. I talked about school and the army.

I nearly nodded off again. She patted my leg again and said, "I want you to know that I have no regrets raising you alone the last four years. I'm so proud of you." That warmed me up.

When we started seeing the light of day, we nibbled some trail mix.

Not long after, we heard machinery. A snowplow. Mom patted my cheek and said, "We made it through the night! Hang on tight. We're going to be all right."

I laughed. "Rhyme time?"

"Don't you know it. I'm a poet." She chuckled.

I quoted one of her favorite movies, The Princess Bride. "No more rhymes now. I mean it..."

She was only too happy to add, "Anybody want a peanut?"

An ambulance had followed the plow. We got a ride to the hospital. Mom stayed by my side, even though I slept most of the day.

I was released late the next afternoon with a cast on one leg and stitches on my head.

It was a bittersweet memory I took with me the rest of my days.

I met my wife at a party after my four years in the army. I knew she was the one right away. We live in Florida, far from snow.

Water skis? Yes, please!