Patchwork snow means it’s the last lift. As Head Liftie, I have the privilege of being the final skier on every once crowded slope. I wonder if there will be a prize for me if I manage to winterize the machinery and zigzag my way back, avoiding the grassy flags and safely arriving at the bottom in one piece?
Doubtful, I muse, since I’d been the one to start the final lift myself and most of the staff cleared out weeks ago when the sun stopped losing battles to the blowers.
“Enjoy the climb,” I always say to my clients, year after year, so I try to take my own advice. This particular line takes the bravest sportsmen straight to the resort’s steepest peak. I flatter myself that after thirty winters there isn’t any side of Montpellier I can’t sidewind.
Above, patches of blue divide the snowy clouds, and I wondering if my sweet Evelyn is watching from on a’ them frosty peaks? I can only hope so. Maybe she’s up there right now enjoying a turn on one o’ them everlasting snow slopes that must run year-round in heaven.
Oh, I’ll be joining you soon, sweet girl, I think, as I push off to close the season.
This piece is prepared for Fandango’s Flash Fiction #197. Image by Max Whittaker for the San Francisco Chronicle.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
That’s tough skiing! I haven’t been skiing in decades.
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I would hate to ski that slope!.
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I would hate to ski any slope at this point. Thanks for the photo inspiration.
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Wonderful winter story with that bittersweet ending reveal. Beautifully written, K!
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Thank you, Tom. Lone man on a lift must have some sort of story to share. I appreciate you reading this flash.
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Thanks, Tom. I was happy with this solitary sort of ride and just letting this character have a moment. Cheers.
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love the lingo of this, and the sad, sweet ending —
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Thank you. I took that image last week and so I was glad to find a little pocket of time to try and write the pov.
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you captured it well; the ending, like the cold, took my breath away 🙂
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😊 Your comment took all the chill out of the evening.
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that’s so good :}
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