Another 2 odd weeks and my sister will be on her way to Kathmandu. With a bag and a leg. So, as my partner in crime pointed out…when I remarked something having cold feet, it’s…cold foot (same dry sense of humor like my sis).
At this point, I would like share something else about my sister. Can’t quite pen down how I could say this, so here are 2 little stories to ‘say’ it.
‘We grew up with simple things. A dollar to share between us on the kiddie rides while mum shopped. A scoop of ice-cream on a cone on our lucky days. So, on one occasion, while licking my scoop of (possibly) chocolate ice-cream, it fell and landed on the floor. I stopped, tears welling up, didn’t know what to do. My sis turned around, looked at me and said – just pick it up . I smiled and did as told. What a bliss…’
‘I starting learning skiing very late in my life. I fear the speed I was in, I fear losing control of my skis, I fear hurting someone else, I fear I fear I fear…A few years later, my sister took up the sport. The first time was hard. And I mean very hard. One Ski, 2 poles with mini-skis on them. She was breaking my record in falling. A year later, she came and joined me again on the slopes (I had glued myself to the baby slopes, never seen nor tried more advanced ones before). One lovely day, everyone wanted to head off to a more advanced slope. Getting nervous, I asked my sister if she thought I could make it…she said, without a second thought, of course. So, there I was…one hour stuck on that slope, heart beat of possibly 300, it was a near-death experience…but I made it…my last adventure with skis on.’