America the Beautiful

May 11, 2012
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At the crack of dawn before even the rooster’s crow, my family and I would toss our luggage in the back of our Chevy Suburban, and hit the road. The car ride consists of trinkets that kept us entertained, and occasional bickering between my brother Alex and me. Our destination was Vail, Colorado: a favorite vacation spot amongst our family.

As we arrived to the Rocky Mountains, the bickering stopped and my brothers and I stared at the sheer beauty of the landscape. The luscious green trees stand tall; the snow is an enticing white playground, and the sun shines brightly, leaving the snow sparkling.

Our first manner of business was to check into our hotel. The moment I stepped into the room, I felt and saw luxury. Later that day, we left our hotel and met up with some relatives, and prepared to hit the slopes. This was my first experience skiing, so I started on the bunny hill. I saw my cousins take off—so elegant with each push of their poles, comparable to a gazelle in mid stride. My dad dedicated his first day of skiing to helping my little brothers and me. By the time the first day was over, I thought I was ready for the monstrous hills.

We headed back to our hotel room where I was greeted with a warm cup of hot chocolate and a fire glowing bright orange. My brothers and I loved Scary Movie 2, so we watched that until it was bedtime. I was exhausted from our first day, so I crawled into bed, pulling the covers up. My head hit the soft pillow, resembling the clouds.

The next morning, I could feel myself levitating towards the kitchen when I caught a whiff of the heavenly scent of French toast and bacon. After I had been fueled by this breakfast of champions, I was ready for our last day on the mountain.
The gondola ride up the mountain was seemingly endless—the anticipation to get back on the monstrous hill was taking its toll on me. When we finally arrived, I stepped out of the gondola with a devilish grin on my face.

My dad and I finally arrived at the hill I’d been waiting for. But my excitement had turned to fear, as if I were staring into the eyes of a serial killer. My dad nudged me for encouragement, and I gave him a nod back. I forced myself to overcome my fear and as I was racing down the hill, I was exuberant to find I was still on my feet. I plowed through the snow, coming to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and my dad pulled up next to me. I saw him with a proud smile on his face.

We had to leave the next morning, and although I was sad to leave the beauty behind, I had memories. I’m grateful I had such a graceful, serene place to spend time with my dad. Vail Colorado is a key piece in the puzzle to a beautiful country.





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