Wishes Under a Starlit Sky Page 13
Chapter 13
The Breckenridge sky is nothing but clouds of light grey, threatening snow, so the four of us – me, Dad, Mum and Madi – are currently out in the garden at the back of the house attempting to get our very early morning task of chopping wood completed swiftly to beat the blizzard, which I’m hoping will come and go this morning so we can at least spend some of Christmas Day out on the deck breathing in the Colorado air.
‘Line it up, Mads, that’s it. Keep your eyes on that line of focus and swing,’ Dad calls out from a safe distance away from Madi and her swinging axe. I’ve got my own stump with my own small log waiting to be halved resting on top of it. I’m heeding my dad’s instructions too, with it being years since I’ve done this sort of activity, as I study my log, looking for its breaking point. I keep my eye on the small crack in the wood, raise my axe into the air and bring it down with all my might. The log splits in two and I automatically jump up and down in the air, feeling incredibly proud of myself. My mum is busying herself collecting more logs but pauses to clap at my achievement. I look over to my dad and he is grinning proudly from ear to ear.
I stop jumping when I notice Madi with her tongue sticking out, her eyebrows scrunched up, staring fiercely at the log before her. I don’t want to distract her. Memories come flooding back of the one time Madi helped me release some teenage angst when my mum was out at the shop. I grimace. It was rare for my parents to get angry, but that day my mum had been fuming when she arrived home to find me with my head wrapped up in a bandage that had been white to start with but quickly turned crimson the moment Madi had put it to the two-inch slice on my forehead.
It had been my fault. I had been teaching Madi how to hold the axe and where to place her weight, when I’d got too close. The axe was a touch too heavy and when I thought she was going to lift it up over her head and take her swing, she instead dipped it back slightly to regain her grip, catching me right above my eye. Why I thought it a good idea to stand behind her, I will never know. I was young and dumb in that instance. It had taken weeks of grovelling for my parents to forgive me and let me anywhere near their workshop again.
My dad catches me looking over at them and winks at me as he takes another step back. I smile. Madi swings her axe with a Wonder Woman roar, which makes me chuckle. She too cracks the wood in half. ‘Did you see that? I did it. Whoa, that felt good,’ she says, stretching her arms above her head as much as her pink ski jacket will allow.
‘I did, you did amazing, and I’m still in one piece,’ I say, nudging her gently. She shoves me right back and we both start laughing. Mum places new logs on our stumps while Dad collects the halves and loads them into a basket by the deck and we both resume our positions. We manage to fill the basket before snowflakes start to descend from the heavens in heavy clumps. The wind is starting to pick up; it’s hard to keep my eyes open. My shoulders are sore and heavy from all the swinging, but I suddenly feel like a child and don’t want to go inside when I hear Mum’s shout.
‘I think we have enough logs for the next two days and it’s safe to say that the blizzard is starting earlier than expected.’ She looks at the sky and waves us in before grabbing one side of the basket and helping my dad lift it up the steps and next to the sliding doors that open to the living room right near the fireplace.
I tilt my head skyward and get a face full of snow, some of the bigger icier chunks sting my cheeks as they graze them and fall to the ground. My body feels alive with this morning’s exercise of chopping wood. I want to stay outside and brave the elements, not wanting to lose the adrenaline that is pumping through my veins. But it’s my dad’s turn to try and wrangle the child within me.
‘Harper, get your butt inside; the wind is picking up. These blizzards are no joke,’ he shouts. As if to prove itself, a gust of wind howls around me and gives me no choice but to head inside as it pushes me towards the decking where my dad grabs my hand and helps to pull me up the now icy steps.
Inside, Madi is helping my mum load some fresh logs into the fireplace, so I take off my coat and replace my snow boots with my fluffy slippers and set about making tea and coffee. My mind is buzzing, replaying each wood chop and how powerful each one had felt. My lungs are full of the crisp snowy air and I feel rejuvenated.
Back inside, the house feels like it has been sprinkled with magic. I get that giddy Christmas morning feeling in the pit of my stomach – the feeling I used to get as a child. The multi-coloured lights spiralling around the Christmas tree seem extra bright while the peace signs and more hippie Santa ornaments wearing sunglasses twinkle under their glow. The fire crackles giving a sheen to the wrapping paper covering the few presents lying in wait in front of it as I make myself comfy on the rug under my favourite turquoise knitted throw.
It doesn’t take long before Madi is slipping under the blanket with me, my parents joining us to kick off Christmas morning with a little gift giving. When I pause to take in the wondrous scene, I think of Bella’s words, and how she spoke of perspective and removing expectations and ideals. I could never have predicted this Christmas after the heartbreak of the last one, yet here I am living in the moment, taking in each minute I am given, surrounded by my heart and soul. All the events that have taken place have led me to this, to being with my parents on Christmas morning again after far too long, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Madi hands me a present – which snaps me back into the present (rather apt) – and I take it from her and place next to me. I’m more excited for Mum and Dad to open theirs and so sit up on my heels to reach for Madi’s and their gifts.
We’re now all holding a present encouraging each other to go first, looking at each other expectantly. Madi jumps in, ripping apart the polka dot wrapping paper I so carefully wrapped her present with.
‘Oh, my goodness, they’re gorgeous,’ she expresses as she lifts the lid off the box and finds a pair of vintage white and mint two-tone saddle shoes. I spotted them back in London in a charity shop window a few months ago and they had screamed Madi. With their kitten heel and scalloped detail, I knew they would go with most of her wardrobe. Mum and Dad both have their hands resting on their presents watching Madi and I with adoring gazes. Madi begins to faff about trying the shoes on while I wave at my parents and urge them to open theirs.
They both laugh as they dive in, Mum more elegant than Dad when it comes to tearing the neat tissue paper. I savour the moment of watching them, with the backdrop of the snow falling behind them outside and with the warmth of the fire blazing, their features – every expressive wrinkle and laugh line – important marks indicating the life they have lived and the love they have given. Unable to wait until they have finished opening their presents, I reach out and envelop them both in a hug; one arm around my mum and one around my dad. They are the gift I want to receive each and every Christmas and my most favourite one of all.
*
Mum loved her crocheted scarf with moons and stars weaved into the stitching, which I picked up from the Handmade holiday market, and Dad got a kick out of the Grateful Dead vinyl wall clock that too came from an incredibly cool stall at the market, which crafted some exceptionally creative and inspiring pieces out of old vinyl.
Madi is walking around wearing in her new shoes while the smell of roasting vegetables fills the kitchen and living room as Mum and Dad prepare Christmas dinner. I’m making myself (kind of) useful if useful means writing down my mum’s recipes so she (more like me) doesn’t forget them (she’s never forgotten a recipe) in my new one hundred per cent recycled notebook. It has two arrows, like mine and Madi’s matching tattoos, emblazoned on it in delicate ink. It’s gorgeous, my homemade gift from Mum and Dad, and it instantly made me want to write.
With my brain fuzzy and warm on new beginnings and appreciating moments, writing down Mum and Dad’s recipes is the first thing that springs to mind, as I know I’m going to miss them so much when we get back to London. My diet has improved tenfold since coming to Colo
rado and I feel better for it. I’ve been getting back to my roots (quite literally), eating tons of root vegetable dishes and vegan staples from my childhood and I’m determined to keep it up when I get home.
When I’m certain I have enough notes and scribbles, I go to turn the Christmas music up, then tie my stunning cream lace headband, my gift from Madi, around my head to keep my hair out of my face, before taking Madi’s hands and dancing around the living room. The rest of the afternoon plays out with much of the same: swooping in and out of the kitchen to help my parents, eating, dancing and chatting away. Em pops in sometime in the evening to wish us a ‘Merry Christmas’ and stays for one of Madi’s famous hot chocolates, at which point we are all stuffed, and the dancing has subsided and been replaced by the Pegasus channel.
It’s been a whole day and a half since I sent off my script to Lara and getting lost in the moment means that I haven’t had much time to think about what she thought. As the Pegasus channel launches into this year’s Christmas premiere, I can’t help the tingle of excitement as I wonder what next year’s Christmas premiere might be.
Chapter 14
Through the window the sky is lighting up with a multitude of colourful fireworks, letting me know that it’s 9 p.m. and Breckenridge is ready to party. Fortunately, the third announced blizzard of this week only lasted all of half an hour this morning and the sun made an appearance earlier this afternoon. I grab my faux fur fleece teddy jacket and make my way into the living room. It’s peaceful in the house. The fire is blazing and brings a flush to my cheeks. There is no movement. I can’t place my parents or Madi. Another crackle of fireworks burst into sprinkles in the navy sky, grabbing my attention. I look out on to the deck and see everyone huddled around the fire pit, heads tilted up to the party above.
Madi spots me walking towards the sliding doors; her eyes light up. I see the golden fireworks dancing in their crystal blue. She waves at me and quickly assesses my outfit; her eyes look me up and down. She smiles broadly as I step into the chilly evening.
‘You look beautiful,’ she gushes. I’ve opted for my navy and white polka dot dress with long sleeves and lace trim, with a pair of thick tights and brown boots. I feel more like me than ever. The days that followed Christmas Day were nothing short of inspiring: getting to spend more time on the slopes, witness Hayley come second in the Dew Ski Tournament, persuading Em to fit in another midnight yoga class and getting to dine around the table with my parents and lounge on the couch with Madi. It has been utter bliss.
‘You too,’ I reply. She truly does. Tonight, Madi has opted for no winged eyeliner. Her face is sporting a no-make-up make-up look with a simple gold glittered eye shadow, rosy pink blush and rouge lip to match her fitted red pencil dress. I edge closer to the fire pit, already needing the heat from the flames as my mum and dad turn around and notice me. They had been too busy gazing up at the fireworks while hand in hand. I smile as I think about how much I adore my parents.
‘Hey, kid,’ my dad says, pulling me in for a big squeeze.
‘Hi treasure,’ Mum says, getting in on the cuddle. This makes me chuckle.
‘This is beautiful,’ I say, when they release me. Madi hands me a tall glass of something bubbly. I happily take it.
‘It kicks off the New Year festivities every year, kid. They know how to party out here,’ my dad explains, his face crinkled with a contented smile. ‘Madi tells us you’re heading to see the torchlight parade and to meet up with your friends. Enjoy Colorado, honey, it’s truly magic at this time of year,’ he adds, dropping a kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes and breathe in the familiar scent of my father, the man who is always there to catch me when I fall. The man who looks burly but has a heart of gold, who I have only ever witnessed being an utter gentleman to Mum. I told myself that I wouldn’t cry this evening, but my eyes become foggy. I take a sip of cooling wine and blink back my emotions.
‘I will, Dad,’ I manage before Madi takes my hand and twirls me around, giggling.
*
‘Oh my God.’ I gasp. My breath is coming out in short bursts. If I thought the fireworks were spectacular, they are nothing compared to my current view. From where I stand sandwiched between Hayley and Madi, we look out over the colourful torches that are illuminating the mountains and the people who are gathered to watch the breath-taking scene. The trees look to be silhouettes and even with all the people about there is a sense of peacefulness as everyone watches in silent awe, the winding trails and swirls of red sweeping down the mountain. The moment has me on the verge of tears for the second time this evening.
The cold air fills my lungs, but the whiskey Jake brought with him is keeping my toes warm. An eruption of shouts and hollers break my reverie as the finale of powerful gold and red fireworks explode in the starry sky and people begin to move around. Hayley takes my hand and our group starts shuffling but I’m not ready to leave the view behind just yet. I feel safe here, safe watching the stars twinkle, watching the giant trees dotted along the mountain sway ever so delicately in the breeze. The footprints and the tracks in the snow have been dusted over with a fresh layer of snowflakes. Everywhere looks crisp and smooth, natural and untouched. It’s calming but also gives me the feeling that anything is possible. Tomorrow the snow will be marked, marked with possibilities, adventure and experience from footprints, skies, snowboards and paw prints. Each night it will be renewed for a new day.
That feeling of newness hits me again, square in my chest. I cough as I take in a lungful of air. It’s a good feeling but one that is mixed with self-doubt and fear.
‘Are you OK?’ Hayley asks. She is still holding on to my hand; the others have started walking towards Main Street. Hayley doesn’t push me to walk after them. I know how much she loves these mountains too.
‘I’m both ridiculously excited and terrified,’ I reply, taking my eyes off the red and green torches and turning to look at Hayley. She catches my eye and her face changes from concerned to a soft side smirk.
‘Remember your first day on your board?’ she asks. I nod and squint back over the mountains reminiscing about that day nearly two weeks ago where I very nearly chickened out of partaking, but instead gave it a shot and proceeded to spend an hour falling on my arse, covering its surface area in bruises.
‘How could I forget?’ I tut playfully and shake my head. In the distance I can see fireworks whizzing into the sky as parties are getting underway in homes. It truly looks like something out of a fairy tale with the Christmas lights glowing on the gingerbread cabins.
‘It was daunting because you had never been on a board before. Everything is scary before you start.’ She shrugs; my eyes find hers again. ‘It’s not going to be easy, Harper, but if you can pick up snowboarding in a week, I have faith in you. You’re stronger and more capable than you think. You’ve just got to hop on and face that fear head on.’ With that she tugs my hand and starts running after the others. It’s not easy to trudge through the snow in snow boots let alone my dressier boots. I’m laughing and out of breath before I can gather my thoughts around Hayley’s advice.
Before we reach the others, I tug gently on Hayley’s hand. ‘You doing OK?’ I ask, a little out of breath.
Hayley spins me around in the snow, her radiant skin glistening under the moonlight.
‘I am positively great.’ She beams, her signature smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. ‘You have been a breath of fresh air for me, Miss Hayes. I’m going to miss you when you leave,’ she adds, watching me twirl.
‘I can say the same for you,’ I reply, shoving her gently towards the others.
‘What was keeping you, slow coach?’ Madi enquires, throwing her arm around my neck, her other hand holding Em’s. Main Street is packed with people chatting away, throwing their heads back with laughter, and dancing along the path to the music that can be heard coming from every bar.
‘I’m a breath of fresh air, apparently.’ I wink at Madi and Hayley pushes me gently inside an unas
suming club with a small black rectangle sign above the door that reads ‘Cecilia’s’. The party is already in full swing. The room is neon purple and I see a sort of stage and a pole past the fully stocked bar with rows and rows of interesting-looking bottles, before I’m thrown into the foray of dancing Coloradans; Madi, Hayley, Em, Jake and Ariana at my heel.
‘Will Bella be out tonight?’ I shout over the noise to Ariana.
‘No, she’s got the kids tonight,’ Ari replies with a swivel of her hips. Jake is standing close behind her taking orders from Em and Madi. Jake points at me and makes a drinking motion. Before I can answer my brain flits to my mum, and I start rattling through my mind the list of beverages I know to be vegan. Something about spending time with my parents these past two weeks has made me want to reconsider my choices. Since I have been in Colorado every day has felt like an epiphany. I feel like I’m taking control of my body, taking control of my choices, taking control of my life.
Jake sends a lopsided smile my way and ruffles my hair. ‘I’ll just take water please,’ I say. He looks momentarily shocked – it is a night for celebrating after all and I have enjoyed my fair share of infused treats this holiday – then he winks and retreats to the bar. Hips connect with mine, hands wave in front of my face, the music is loud, and the vibe is electric. I don’t want to get tipsy tonight. I want to be present, to experience all of it and let go without alcohol in my system. I’m aware that I’ve relied on it a little more recently but taking my dad’s advice of meditating and spending time in the glorious outdoors, I know I don’t need it to open myself up anymore.
Three dance anthems later and I’m holding on to my fleece, making it a part of the rhythm and my dance moves. I’m sweaty and feeling invigorated. I like it in here but as I catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall, I realize I don’t want to celebrate this New Year indoors surrounded by people. I want to be outside in the snow watching the sky as it changes colour, wispy clouds drifting through it and disappearing off into a new beginning.