I'm sitting here, cramped on this blasted chairlift. The wind is whipping at my face, numbing my cheeks and neck with sharp prickles. My feet have lost all feeling in them, although I did distinctly remember them searing with pain just a few moments ago. My mind flashes back to twenty minutes before, where I had been blissfully cramped up asleep in my mother's van. Oh, how simple life had been when I could nap at will!
A snap of wind diverts my attention back to the present situation. It's all a game of survival at this stage, a game of wits and ... oh how cold it is. I wish I could just curl up and fall asleep again, anywhere. Even that snowbank over there looks fairly habitable, especially if it was to be a temporary-type-thing.
But then I get to the top of the mountain. The wind howls up here, with a sheer force that is completely alien to me. Any lingering thoughts of resent vanish as I gaze upon the beauty that has been bestowed upon me. I felt almost guilty, looking at its pure divinity. There below me, the valleys that cusp between the mountaintops were graced with the wispiest of clouds. Feather-like, ethereal, they were curled as if God himself had twirled these gray strands of hair around his fingers. The setting sun cast pockets of gold light upon them, lighting a smile upon everything it touched. A fine mist sparkled around me, danced, as the wind continued to howl and crackle around me. The mountains kept their solemn omnipotence as I held my breath, exhilarated.
I think I finally know what it's all about.
