A snowcovered peak, hidden between straggly dead trees, lies at the end of a distant Sussex road. When temperatures drop and skies flood with grey, puffy snow blows over Ausblick Ski Hill.

Every Sunday, I awake to the chirp of my little brother, “Can we go to the hill now?” Half asleep, I whip on my thermal gear and stuff my skis into the back of the truck. My family rushes to get a table in the lodge.

With the strap of my ski boots, I escape; easing my mind. The creaky chairlift interrupts the peaceful silence as I increase altitude, awaiting an adventure. I disperse amongst the hill -- only recognizable by a glimpse of my blue coat as I speed along the ivory ice snow.

I appreciate the community around me as the icy touch of the wind flushes my once pale cheeks. It’s a place where family comes together along the slopes and friendships grow fonder aside the fire.

Every view, every breath, every jump, I race to the lodge -- My instant hot chocolate awaits me. With numb fingers, I remove my helmet, revealing my jumbled hair. I unstrap my boots, unsure if my icy toes are still there. I load my skis back into the truck, taking one last glance at the hill.

Ausblick is a second home to my family, housing us every Sunday. When the winter breeze blows, I migrate five minutes away to Sussex’s slippery slopes. Until next time.