Marcus watched his daughter negotiate the hill with her grandmother and realized he had lost control of the schedule before they had even parked. Nori was eight. Hana declined to give an age that might be used against her.
Jae, who had spent the drive checking that everyone had dry gloves, stood beside him eating one of the emergency snacks. “You can go too,” she said. “I know.” He did not move. Neither of them wanted to miss the look on Nori’s face.
Their family had become good at making complicated weeks work. School pickups, shifts, the long calls with relatives. A winter weekend had sounded like one more thing to organize. Now the only decision was who would pull the sled back up.
Hana pointed at Marcus. Nori agreed immediately. Jae took a turn with them next, laughing so hard at the bottom that a stranger offered to hold the sled while she stood up.
By lunch, at a table at Roast & Toast in Petoskey, the family had reached a unanimous decision: the sensible plan was to do exactly this again. Marcus put the schedule away. Hana asked for another pair of dry gloves.
Back to winter’s people →