A few weekends ago, Dana and I took the kids for our first snow skiing trip. We headed east on I-64 over to the Appalachain mountains to Snowshoe Mountain resort. We had a great time (with the bonus that there were no orthopedic injuries!). Friday was spent tubing at Silvercreek, while Saturday we skied at Snowshoe (where the kids not only learned to ski, but totally dominated the bunny slope by the end of the day). By the end of the trip, Emma was ready to move into a condo on the mountain permanently.
During my younger days, Snowshoe was a place I frequented a lot in the winter months, skiing with friends. Being back there this trip brought back memories of fun times and old friends. On the drive back to Kentucky, navigating through the winding roads out of the mountains, the snowy scenery again drew me back in time. Seeing the swift, cold water in the mountain streams brought back memories of fishing for brooke and brown trout with my Dad, Grandpa Wilson and my Uncle Dan and Uncle Lew. A lot of those trips were 20 years ago or longer, but the memories are as clear as the mountain water.
West Virginia will always be a Home for me. It’s where I grew up, went to college and medical school, and met my wife and best friend. The chant of “Let’s Go…Mountaineers” still rings in my head. It’ll always be “almost heaven” for me.
