They'll Be Cold When We Get Back

Some people act "older" with age.

Others simply keep living.

My grandmother, Mimi, and her dear friend Marguerite were proof of that. By the time they were both in their sixties, many people their age had begun to slow down. Not these two. Whenever fresh snow blanketed the mountains, one would call the other and ask,

"Want to go cross-country skiing today?"

They'd load their gear in my grandfather's old four-wheel-drive truck—power steering optional—and head off in search of fresh trails.

Before setting out, they'd tuck a couple of Heineken beers into the snow beside the truck.

"They'll be cold when we get back."

That simple tradition always makes me smile. It wasn't really about the beer. It was about embracing adventure, finding joy in ordinary days, and proving that growing older never meant growing old.

Whenever I think of Mimi, I don't just remember her wisdom.

I remember her spirit, her humor, and her remarkable ability to make every season of life an adventure.