Lexie Who?

The time line is unclear, but I remember seeing my new friend’s cousin in the Seattle airport while travelling to/from, Montana/Washington State.  It had been years since I had seen him, but I recognized him immediately.  He was travelling with his young family, and was rounding up an errant toddler as I approached.  I made eye contact, and said his full name in a questioning manner.  Yeah, that’s me… He replied.

It’s me, Lexie!  I spat out excitedly. 

Lexie who?  He asked, and as he spoke I could tell he never outgrew the cute lisp he had as a child.

But I couldn’t hide my confusion; How many Lexies do you know?

Now, I may have just thought that was the question I should have asked, but I probably just sputtered Miller?  I was Miller when we knew each other!

Then the recognition came, I could see it on his face, but he just laughed, like he had been joking the whole time. He introduced me to his wife and kids, as an unbelievable skier.  That’s when I knew for sure he remembered correctly. We spent winter weekends together for what seems like years. No, we were never an item, we were simply skiing buddies.  My best friend and I would get to the ski hill by brothers, or bus, and we would meet up with the cousin and his friend, or friends, and spend the day together carving through mogels, shush bombing jeep trails, and jumping off natural cornices.  

I have skied since my TBI, twice, and probably just to prove to myself, I was still capable. The sport that had never been difficult, ever, kicked my butt.  It was a hell of a lot of work, and the kind of physical work I had no memory of; at least not in terms of skiing. I made a conscious decision to not ski again.  Also, it wasn't worth hurting myself.  

Now that I’m back in my home town, I see the cousin often, and we tell others the story of meeting in the Seattle Airport, over, and over again. And we still laugh.