“At LastIt's a perfect winter day.No wind. No Arctic freeze.Cloudless azure sky. A dayto fly.Snow drapes the mountain like ermine, fabulous feather-light powder coaxing meto fleethe confines of my room, bravethe mostly plowed roadup to the closest ski resort.To runfrom the cloying silenceconnected Mom and Dad,into encompassing stillnessfar awayfrom city dirt and noiseFar above suburban gridlock.Far beyond the grasp of home.”

“I felt angry,frustrated.I felt I didn't belong, not in mychurch, not in my home, notin my skin.Amidst the chaos, i feltalone,in need of a friend instead ofa sister, someone detached frommy world.The "woman's role" theorydisgusted me.I would soon be a woman, and Iknew I could never perform asexpected.I was tired of my mom's submissionto her religion, to her husband'ssick quest for an heir,to his abuse.I was sick of my dad, ofreaching forhim as he fell farther awayfrom us and into the arms ofJohnnie WB.”

“Love is strange. One minute you're jungle fever. The next you're Arctic winter.”

“LightThat's how I feel-like the winter-fringedbreeze might scoopme up into its wings,flyaway with me trappedin its feathered embrace.I am a snowflake.A wisp of eiderdown,liberatedfrom gravity. My bodyis light. Ephemeral.My head is light.I want to swaybeneaththe weight of air,dizzy with thought.Light filters throughmy closed eyelids.The sun,chasing shadows,tells me I'm notafloat in dreams.”

“The Screamingflashed me back to a timewhen mom and dad were still togetherif you could call miles apart together.”

“I Won’t Fly TodayToo much to do, despite the snow,which made all local schools closetheir doors. What a winter! Usually,I love watching the white stuff fall.But after a month with only shortrespites, I keep hoping for a criticalblue sky. Instead, amazing wavesof silvery clouds sweep over the crestof the Sierra, open their obesebellies, and release foot upon footof crisp new powder. The skiresorts would be happy, exceptthe roads are so hard to travelthat people are staying home.So it kind of boggles the mindthat three guys are laying carpetin the living room. Just goes toshow the power of money. In lessthan an hour, the stain Conner lefton the hardwood will be a ghost.”

“I take four or five heavy steps beyond the front door and Mom comes rushing down the hallway. "Shane! What in the hell-" Now she sees me, in all my dignified glory. I tell her I'm fine. Swear I stuck up for my sister, not an alien but an angel. By the time I get to, "I think I might need stitches," Mom is my mommy. She may have forgotten my birthday. But today she remembers me.”