Remember when we stayed in the cabin
While Mom and Dad went skiing.
I was eight and you were twelve.
Earlier that day you yelled at me
'Cause I peeked over the edge.
I wanted to see how far down the slope was.
Mom told you to leave me alone,
But you were just protecting me.
I knew you were mad 'cause you scrunched your eyes.
I wasn’t a baby, you know. I knew how to ski.
It got really cold and dark
All the way on top of Mammoth.
We could see the beginning of the clouds.
I kept saying it was cold.
I wanted to go and see the cabin.
And you agreed 'cause we went.
The cabin was brown and made of logs.
There were wooden steps out front.
There was a lantern light by the door.
Inside there were bunks and a kitchen.
It was pretty and really warm.
There was a room in the back with a TV.
We found movies and games in the coffee table.
So we played Trouble and watched Sister Act.
I think you were blue and I was yellow.
You were always blue and I never cared.
I probably lost 'cause I always lose
And I probably got upset, too.
You didn’t pick on me, though.
I started to worry about Mom and Dad in the snow.
But you told me Mom wouldn’t get hurt.
I wasn’t worried anyone would get us.
'Cause you were twelve and a strong, big brother.
I think we fell asleep on the floor by the couches
In the TV room watching the end of the movie.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Our First Night in Mammoth
Posted by Ammie at 8:49 PM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment