April 1 Valley Life column

April 1 Valley Life column in AG Weekly

Friends make challenges easier to handle

While Magic Valley enjoyed spring break, my friend Mary and I decided we needed a break, too. Winter's been long this year, and we each have our own set of worries -- a mother with dementia, a father whose lungs keep filling with fluid. We weren't running away from our problems; we just wanted a little reprieve.

So we packed our bags and headed to Featherville where it's still winter. We welcomed the snow, planning to sit by the fire, sip some brandy and read our books.

But the spring-like weather tempted us outdoors, where hats and gloves were optional. Wanting to try a new sport, Mary and her husband, John, had rented snowshoes. While they strapped on their shoes, my husband and I donned our cross-country skis and off we went, our destination two miles down the road to Abbott Campground to see the river and the bridge.

It was a pleasant journey, almost too warm to ski. By the time we got to the campground, we were tired. But it wasn't time to rest. We still needed to cross the bridge.

Although it was pretty, the snow piled high on the bridge made crossing a challenge. There were no longer railings to keep us safe. If we were going across, we would have to teeter on top of the snow, now as high as the railings.

"Piece of cake," John said, taking the lead with Mary on his heels.

Afraid of heights, my husband opted to watch. I was undecided. I used to climb trees with no fear of falling, but now a 10-inch stool turns my legs to jelly.

As I watched my friends cross the bridge, I had to talk to myself. I could do this. But not on skis. So I slipped out of my skis and up onto the snow-covered bridge. One step, two steps, three. I was OK until I looked down. Now halfway across the bridge, I froze, unable to go forward, unable to turn back.

"Don't look down," John said. He turned and walked toward me. "Look here, at me."

"I don't know about this," I said.

My legs felt like rubber and wobbled. I was scared, but I was also determined. I hadn't skied two miles to let a little thing like a snow-covered bridge stop me.

One step, two steps. Don't look down. Three steps. By concentrating on John, I was able to cross the river. Hooray! I was so proud of myself. But my victory was short-lived. Soon I would have to turn around and go back.

Forty degrees outside is fine for cross-country skiing, but it isn't the best temperature for wading an ice-filled river. The last thing I wanted to do was fall in. But I was braver now. All I had to do was keep from looking down at the water.

When it was time to return, I followed my friends across the bridge, concentrating on the backs of their coats. I resisted the temptation to look down until I was in the middle of the bridge. Then I stopped and looked upstream, hoping to spot a goose or a duck. All I could see was the river, rushing under my feet. I took a deep breath. One step, two steps until I was safely across the bridge.

Had I been skiing alone, I would have been content to look at the other side of the river with longing. But John and Mary made it easy for me to follow, giving me the grit to finish something I wanted to do.

Facing some things takes courage, like dealing with aging parents or crossing snow-covered bridges. Sometimes all it takes is someone walking beside you. Sometimes all it takes is a friend.