Sunday, March 3, 2013

We make mistakes

The second time I went to the winter snowfields was to Thredbo.  I had previously worked, as a student in long socks and eidelweissed drndl at Perisher Valley in summertime.
What a pretty winter village this is - or was: I haven't been there for ages.
I was with people I didn't know very well, in our small flat,  but delightfully I felt at ease and happy with them quickly.
What a hard slog learning to ski is. The physical toil, the biting cold, the cement boots, the bodily unintelligence, the surrounding throng  sailing past like Alis, floating like a butterfly. Or was that a bee? People, like dolphins, physically attuned to their environment.
How richly satisfying after a days hard slog - frustration mixed with moments of triumph and hope - to relax and eat and talk in the evening.
One evening when we were feeling wonderful, the chair lift suddenly came alight.  Lit by torches that flamed out across the snow, we were entranced by the drama and spectacle as the chairs sailed up and around the mountain, flares hissing pulsing light aroubd them. What a wonderful show they put on for us.
We didn't know that they were searching for missing children. Three siblings, village children, found the next morning, frozen.
We make mistakes. that is our nature.
What seems to be may not be what is. That is our reality: our world.


Relatively Retiring said...

Oh, what a poignant tale. I could see the torch-lit spectacle so vividly, and then realised the terrible reason for it.
We do indeed misinterpret.

R.H. said...


I like your rambling style.

Elephant's Child said...

Oh. How right you are - and what a dreadful way to have the message brought home to you.

molly said...

How very sad---poor little kids.

Frances said...

Thank you all for your comments. It's our nature, isn't it, Relatively Retiring, to try to make (sometimes foolish) sense of things?

Frances said...

Nice to see you here agin, R.H.

Frances said...

It didn't feel so much sad but more infinitely regrettable at the time, E.C.
And we felt shamed by our ignorance.

Frances said...

Poor little kids indeed, Molly.
Such short little lives.
To, I imagine, the infinite regret of their parents, they had removed their skis. This is evidently an absolutely fundamental rule that they were well drilled in. And, for some reason this time disregarded.

molly said...

Loved your reminiscing here! You should do the "Where I'm From" practice. You can find details on my blog a few posts back. Sounds to me like you have great material for it!

molly said...

.....this also reminded me of a line that struck a chord with me in the book I'm currently reading...."In real life turning points are sneaky. They pass by unlabeled and unheeded. Opportunities are missed, catastrophes unwittingly celebrated......."