The forecast calls for heavy snow and bluebird skies as I deal the next hand in our on-going game of poker. The three of us huddle around the fireplace of our small cabin, as the falling snow foreshadows the good vibes we will share the next day. We arise to three feet of fresh snow, and the parking lot has yet to be plowed. We load the small suby, and floor it through the several feet of snow, narrowly missing our neighbor's expensive porsche parked across the lot. We drive to June, 10 minutes from our cabin, where we greet the familiar face's we see everyday out on the hill. The local old men and women, dressed in their 70's jumpsuits are the first to arrive at the mountain, grin's from cheek to cheek. They tell us old stories of how things used to be, while we anxiously wait for the first chair to roll around. It's funny as I can't help but hope that I will some day be as fortunate to be shredding pow and having as much fun as them when i'm that age. Finally the first chair rolls around, and my buddy and I hop on the old rickety two seater as it comes. For once I don't mind the slow lift, as I find comfort in the quiet and relaxing motion of the swinging chair. I quickly scope out a line on the far right side of the face, with a drop sure enough to supply sufficient air for a five. One of my friends decides to take the tree-line, the other takes straight to the face. We unload the chair, and depart our separate way's after a quick fist-bump all around. I hike my way to the far side of the face, and come to the top of the run. My mind, my body, everything is completely at peace. It doesn't matter that i'm failing my math class, I didn't get the girl, or that starting position on the football team. Fuck, my whole life could be going straight down the shitter, but here, my mind feels at peace, and everything is just right. My skis turn straight down the mountain, and I drop in. I slash turns across the whole expanse of the run, as I fly into the main feature that had attracted me to the line; the cliff. I settle my speed, and thrown a slow three to get a full view of the landscape. Here, floating through the cold air, I wear a massive grin, as I spot the landing. I cleanly stomp the trick, something that for me, rarely happens first shot. I cut into the close- by trees and after a various assortment of kick turns, I can hear the familiar, "Yahhooo!" of my friend as encounters multiple face shots in the waist- deep pow. We all meet up at the bottom of the run covered head to toe in snow. "Lets do it again."