My Christmas Wish!
Column by Heather Burke Dec 25, 2008

No fancy baubles for me or bright shiny skis under the tree. This year I am not even wishing for my usual deep dreamy snow since Mother Nature has that covered in Maine. All I want for Christmas is the healthy happy return of my daughter to the slopes in the New Year. She was injured skiing in late November, has since undergone knee surgery, and will take time to heal.

So this Christmas our family of four will not be gathered on our traditional first chair and that makes my heart heavy. But she’s healthy and determined to regain her strength and get back to the slopes.

I’d be telling you “I can see Nova Scotia from my house” if I told you I don’t regret letting my baby girl (okay – she’s 15) ski the bumps and hit that jump that day. If only we’d quit at lunch, changed our ski plans that weekend. You know the drill you run through your head in down times. But she wanted to join the freestyle ski program, that’s all she wanted for Christmas and her birthday combined.

Sometimes wishes aren’t granted as we pictured. Not every ski day is glorious. But when I count my daughter’s 12 ski seasons (she’s 15), and the 30-40 days in each, there are more glory days than she or I can remember. And there’s only one we would like to forget. My husband Greg blew his knee out four seasons ago, so we know the risks and the rewards, and we know how happy his return to skiing was after months of therapy.

And I’m reminded that accidents happen. Obviously your risk factor increases exponentially with the size of each jump. But whether you are pursuing your favorite passion with fervor or you just happen to be in the wrong lane at the wrong time, stuff happens. So you have to heal, learn, grow and in the process - you become that much more grateful for your health and for those precious activities that define and fulfill you.

She has grown to love the sport that her dad and I introduced to her when she way tiny, barely three feet tall and dressed head to toe in the cutest pink ski suit. She’s had a decade of pretty outfits, a fleet of flowery gear, even a heart covered helmet and recently - trendy twin tip skis. Every step of the way she shared her excitement and energy, with only a teaspoonful of cold finger tears. I can only count one crash that made her cry, she was seven and cracked her favorite sparkly goggles.

She’s had mountainous moments conquering cornice size steeps, floating through pillowy powder, leading her brother down crazy Cant Dog glades at The Loaf, and showing her dad that the big bumps on Agony are “totally do-able.” No one in our family will let her forget her treacherous trail pick at the Canyons, the moguls were over her head on Thrasher, she was five and fiercely determined to finish that run.

I never had to ask my daughter if she wanted to ski again after her knee accident. Friends ask me that question (mostly non-skiers). I know the answer just like Giselle knows Tom Brady can’t wait to throw the pigskin again. She will be back on her boards. She’s on the recovery ramp thanks to the expert doctors at the Center for Orthopaedics in Portland, who repair their share of skiers' knees.

We will be back as the four skiers on that first chair. She will be more cautious (okay - that’s my second Christmas wish) and we will appreciate the alpine sport of sliding down silky snow covered slopes. It’s something we love to do as many days as we can, and something that one unfortunate day on the hill can not take away.   

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