the skis pictured were, until very recently, with their original owner, my dad. when my grandmother gifted them to him years ago, none of us expected they would one day end up in a city on the Canadian Prairies. I had turned down my dad's offers to send them my way, citing practicality. then last year, I learned accepting his offer was more practical and that my heart deeply wanted it; new skis, while more expensive, also lacked any memories of shared skiing moments. nostalgia won out.
as a kid, my grandmother's collection "down cellar" of winter equipment seemed magical - an endless variety of aids for adventures on ice or snow - as long as you fit into the sizes available. my adventures on frozen shallow ponds were fun, but ice skating was never quite as special to me as cross country skiing, it lacked the togetherness. I stumbled into cross country skiing one day while visiting family; I was soon racing along with my cousin, savouring the ability to glide over the glittering snow.
the centre of skiing for me became adventures with my dad and grandmother. we would make a day of traversing snowy fields, trails, and forests. always classic. the arrival of these skis was bittersweet - one day skiing may offer togetherness once more, but our trio's skiing days are over. my grandmother wouldn't have wanted me to stop just because I miss her, she would have wanted me to continue skiing because there is love there; I love the activity and loved creating those memories with two special people. my grandmother left a legacy of togetherness, play, and love. though we don't know what our legacies will be, we must have courage to make our own marks.