Backstory: The Last Generation of Skiers

One by one, beads of rain race down the window; tear drops reflecting the mood of this gloomy, midwinter day. The final scraps of snow from the last storm cling to the edges of my roof before gravity pulls them to the earth. Individual crystals of snow are swept away by the maddening flow of liquid, while others disintegrate into the soil, lost to the depths of the world. I hunker in my Bend, Oregon home, watching the streets fill with the morning showers. What was once a wintery world washes away like a withering thought. And in all this rain, I dream of powder.