In a ski hut in the moonlight

The evening before Christmas Eve some friends hosted an almost-annual party at the Swampy Lakes ski hut. The hut is a small, three-sided log cabin with a dirt floor and, this year, four feet of snow on its roof. Snow fell so deep so early this year that our friends had to cut snow-steps down to the floor of the cabin, and people took turns standing by the entrance, chiding, "Watch your head!" as the rest of us ducked in and out -- drawn by the roaring fire in the barrel stove and three camp tables laden with food.

I first attended this party in 2005, when my son was barely four. At that time I was the connection to all those people. We women worked part-time then, and on our days off we'd haul the kids to this or that playground, or each other's houses, to drink coffee and complain of sleeplessness and laugh and worry over our sweet, silly babies. Now I work full-time. The children are tall, lean tent-poles and they're all in school -- nearly middle school, some of them. The husbands keep us connected now, ensuring that during the long, long ski season we meet on the mountain whenever we can.

Back in 2005, I was unnerved by this party. At the winter solstice the sun sets around 4:30; the party was held almost entirely in darkness, in the forest 16 miles from town, in bitter cold and deep snow. This year, however, the moon was nearly full on the solstice, and you know what? Moonlight on snow is very bright. It's so bright the trees cast shadows. In the cold, voices carry. Also the children are so much older now, I worry about them less -- even though now they're old enough to climb onto the roof of the little cabin and leap, squealing, to land poof! in that deep snow.

At one point I walked out alone, admiring that forest turned to shades of blue in the moonlight; I walked along the trail people had made, and then further, cutting my own path through waist-deep snow. I didn't go far; it was too exhausting; so I turned: looking back at the dark forms of my friends talking around the bonfire and the children romping in the snow, clearly visible in that moonlight, and loud, very loud, the way that free people will be.

Leaping from the roof of the shelter. Near sunset.