Page 7 of Full Send

“Not too bad. Twenty-four hours from Cincy but I stopped in Omaha for a night along the way to break it up,” he says, eyes focused on the long straight road heading to Jackson.“I left Sunday and got in Monday night.”

“Remind me exactly what it is you do again, Collin?” Lizzy asks, looking out the window of the passenger seat at the mountains on our right.

“Online fitness coach and dietician. Pretty convenient when I want to work remote and come out here a few days early,” he says.

“Oh, ok. That makes more sense. I thought you were a personal trainer and had to go to a gym or something. Didn’t realize you did online stuff,” she says, sounding surprised and disappointed. “Not sure why, but I was picturing you in some grey sweats spotting someone on their lifts or helping them with some deep stretching.”

Collin and I both turn to Lizzy, mouths open.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t had the hot gym trainer fantasy before,” she quips, arms crossed, letting out a huff and rolling her eyes at me. “Don’t act like I’m the crazy one here.”

I try to change the topic away from my brother in grey sweats, for my own sake. “So… How was Christmas, Collin? I know you were planning on spending it at the Chapman’s place. Anythingnew there?” I notice him shift uncomfortably in the driver seat at my question.

We talked Christmas Day and I know Collin didn’t mind missing Christmas at home. He has never been particularly close to our parents, part of the reason he stayed in Cincinnati after school instead of moving back home to Dayton.

“Actually it was great. I slept in until you called, then hung out with Chapman and his grandparents the rest of the day. His grandma made her meatloaf, which I was craving. Just an all around good day,” he says, his tone more upbeat.

I’m glad he enjoyed Christmas for a change. He mostly came out to Wyoming early to help take care of some things around the condo, but I’m sure meeting up with our family friend, Tanner Chapman, and his grandparents was nice for him. Tanner’s a local property manager that’s been helping us take care of our condo since Grandpa passed away. Collin also brought our stash of wine and some goodies from home in his SUV, since the options in Wyoming can be a bit limited.

Between the airport and Jackson, we have a few minutes to take in more of the heart stopping views of the Teton Mountain Range. With the clear blue skies, Jackson Hole Ski Resort is clearly visible from the road into town out the passengers side windows.

“Holy shit,” Lizzy blurts out, “you said this place was steep, but that’s nuts.”

“Told you, Lizzy. Jackson Hole is no joke.” I can feel myself grinning as I make eye contact with Collin, the same thought clearly on his mind.

“So the condo is at the base of that, near that cluster of buildings?”

“Yep. About a fifteen minute walk from all the lifts,” Collin adds.

I stare out the window when I hear a familiar song come on the radio.

“Collin, turn it up please?” I ask, watching his eyes in the rear view mirror.

“All these years and you still love this band. Don’t tell me you still have a fan girl crush on Tommy Jacobs?” Collin chides.

“Oh fuck off, Collin,” I snarl. “You know he’s hot. I don’t seem to remember you complaining when we went to all those Teal Tigers concerts in high school.”

With one of my favorite songs now drowning out Collin and Lizzy, I gaze out the window at the mountains again. Even from the distance we’re at you can clearly see the outlines of the ski slopes with little black dots that I know are skiers. Seeing them puts my mind right back into ski junkie mode, craving the rush from being on the mountain.

Chasing fresh snow orfreshies.Waking up at the crack of dawn to be first in line for the chair lifts orfirst chair.Skiing in knee deep fluffy powder orpow.Wanting to be the first person to go down a run for the day with your skis leaving beautiful flowing brush strokes behind you orfirst tracks.

Sometimes I forget how much slang skiers use. None of it ever comes up in conversation back in thereal worldin Ohio. It’s all flooding back now.

I sigh… I missed this.

On our left, before we reach town, is the sprawling National Elk Refuge. It’s dotted with sleds chauffeuring tourists around to see the elk herds. Occasionally a wolf can even be spotted on the edges of the sanctuary, a reminder that this place is surrounded by total wilderness.

A few minutes later and we’re passing through Jackson. Downtown or old town, was once a rustic small town with dirt roads, no traffic lights, and charming old western buildings. Ourgrandparents would tell us about how as recently as the eighties, the town still felt like a rural western town.

“Wow,” Lizzy says, watching out the windows as Collin is still scanning the streets for a parking spot, “this place is so cute. Are all these old store fronts original?”

“Yep. Most of the facades are original. The stores in them have changed but the layout is pretty much how it’s always been,” I say, looking out the window at the row of shops we’re passing, scanning for any new ones that might have opened since my last time in town.

“Hmmm. I think we need to stop in there later,” Lizzy says, pointing up at a large neon sign. Oh boy.

Dotting the downtown landscape are a number of old saloons like the Silver Dollar Cowboy Bar and Horseshoe Saloon, sticking out above the rest of the shops with their old school neon signs. Lizzy is looking right at the cowboy bar. I’d expected her to be a bit more excited, but maybe the flight took more out of her than I expected.

“Oh we will, don’t worry,” Collin says smirking. “Just don’t get your hopes on finding a cowboy there.”

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