In my life, copper isn’t a color; it’s a place. It’s people. It’s a feeling. It’s a lifetime. It’s a week.
I have been lucky enough to get to spend the past two Thanksgiving break weeks at Copper Mountain in Colorado. It’s not a normal family vacation. In fact, I rarely see my dad, though he goes out with me.
I spend six full days and seven nights with a group of people that I otherwise never see. And now, I won’t be able to spend this week with my people again.
Copper is the color of early, wintry mornings. It’s getting in line for a chairlift that isn’t even open. Laughter and chatter buzz around me in the dark, otherwise silent ski resort. The general public won’t be out for another three hours. For now, the mountain is ours. We watch the sunrise from the peak. The sky turns golden, cotton candy pink, and lilac on its way to sky blue. Even on the cloudiest of days, the sunrise tells stories of brighter hues.
Copper is the contrast of whispers in hallways to open doors of ‘happy birthday.’ Tiny lighters from souvenir shops light the candles from the tiny grocery store. Below them sit a brownie that definitely needed extra flour to adjust to the altitude. The result was a little soft and undercooked, best eaten in scoops. The whole planning and moment were captured on my silver Canon digital camera that still holds pictures of me from 2009.
Copper is only watching Dance Moms on the TV until screencasted TikToks take over. A pullout couch houses more people than it probably should, all eyes locked on the screen. At any other time, the TV is never playing. It’s reserved for only the two aforementioned things.
Copper is the opposite of eating healthy. It’s draining our bank accounts at the Starbucks on the first floor of the hotel. I watched my gift card drop at an alarming rate after my daily question of “What size are you getting?” was always answered by “venti.” We drink our overpriced sugary drinks while we wait in line for the best mini donuts in the world. We feast on the floor of the hotel lobby while our coaches do individual racing videos. Before this, we had been eating hint-of-lime tortilla chips and Tostito’s queso in our room. Between Starbucks, donuts, queso, and our daily greasy croissants, I’ll be missing Copper for more than just the place and people.
Copper holds the greatest of opportunities—other than meeting new people and getting six days of racing before most in Michigan. Copper Mountain, as the home of the US Ski Team’s training facility, means there are always people to look up to. It leads to pictures being passed around with the question, “Is this Mikaela Shiffrin?” only to see her in line a couple of hours later, convinced it can’t really be her. Copper gives chances to stay across the hall from the Men’s Italian Downhill Ski Team and play cards and Spikeball with them.
Copper is one of the greatest joys ever known, always coming to a bittersweet goodbye. For two years I have been able to experience this. At the end of every week, I want nothing more than to be in the comfort of my own home, and at the same time, stay in the home I had made for the week.
Copper may not exactly be a color of my life, but it is one of my greatest experiences.
