The Invisible Line

Right before the Holiday Break, we were at dinner and talking about the many school activities and programs to which parents were invited.

Benji: "Wow, all those kids and all those parents at school together. That is a lot of love going on there."

"What do you mean?"

Benji: "Well, you KNOW there is that invisible line from my heart to your heart and that is how it is with all kids and their moms and dads. So it is a lot of love all in one place when they are all together."

Zach: "AND did you know that the invisible line stays with you, even when you are far apart? One of you could be at the North Pole and the other person in Antarctica but that line is still there."

Benji: " Yep. The invisible line. That's what love is."

I knew from the moments following this conversation that there was far more to it than what I could process before it was time for homework and dishes. How do kids just know this stuff? Their 'wisdom' stayed with me, popping up as a reminder at such routine times as saying good-bye in the morning or starting down a ski run and seeing that well, they could almost do this without me now. I have my line, right? The more I contemplated their simple explanation about love, the more I saw how 'right' they are: the 'line' begins with that exact connection they know right now—parent and child—but then it magically starts to extend.

If you choose to live in Summit County, in a short time you realize you have a 'mountain family' surrounding you because most locals don't have relatives in the area. This group shares everything from birthdays to Christmas dinner. Celebrating traditions with family as it exists here can mean trick-or-treating through a blizzard or heading to the Easter gathering wearing snow boots and springy Easter outfits—but it is just what you do. The common tie—love of the mountains—may have brought us all out here but knowing what it takes to actually live, work, and raise a family here—that is the bond that holds us tight. It takes a village all right, but also some good snow tires.

Typically, we don't have a lot of the crime you see on the nightly news, instead we have the occasional 'news' story about an accident-- skiing, rafting, climbing—and knowing someone affected by that type of story becomes more common the longer you live here. When the worst does happen, it doesn't have to be about someone who has your last name, or even has kids at school with your own for you to be affected…there's the unspoken bond living here creates, so the anguish felt is very real.

The real power of what Zach and Benji had to say comes when it is applied to events that you just don't expect in life, you cannot fathom they will happen. The invisible line of love helps start the healing before anyone even notices. I see that now more clearly, looking back on the recent happenings here:

Several weeks ago, we had a little boy in our son's class wake up to find out his mother was missing. Eventually, this 6 year old boy had to be told that not only was his mother found dead, her death was ruled a homicide and that his father was one of the suspects.

This week we shared in an overwhelming sadness as hundreds in Summit County, many in our mountain 'family', mourn the death of a father, husband, mentor and incredible ski patroller at Arapahoe Basin. He turned 50 in January. His oldest son was skiing with him when he died.

The invisible line. It is what makes us mourn not just for our own losses, but mourn when others face loss as well. We all have some version of this type of 'real life' story, if not more than one. And we are all affected by them in some way. Whether or not these people and their families are on my speed call list, my email list, or my New Year's Letter list…I feel sad and I feel real, honest pain for them. I know the 'invisible line' is our tie, because it connects them to those they love, and connects some of those people to me. It goes on and on. And I have to say: until I heard it put that simply in a conversation over dinner, I just don't know how I ever truly have explained it, even to myself.

For anyone affected by the stories hitting home here tonight, and for these young children left with an enormous void in their lives: Feel the invisible line. Afterall, it goes everywhere.

Thanks for listening.