A Delicate Wildflower: A Tribute to Mothers

By Courtney Allen, TWWI Marketing Intern

Happy Mother's Day from TWWI! As most of you know this Sunday, May 10th is Mother's Day. For many of us this is a day that we make a special effort to tell our mothers how important they are to our lives. Just in the way each of our relationships with our mother's are unique, the way we celebrate them is unique as well. We may send a card, flowers, write a poem, have a girl's day at a spa, cook a beautiful breakfast, or simply call them and tell them how glad we are to have them in our lives. Over the years, I have done all of these things for my mom, Peggy. We have been lucky enough in my 24 years of life to have a close relationship that always seems to grow and thrive through each bump and triumph in life. I am also lucky to have her close in distance as well. She often drives up from nearby Colorado Springs to catch-up over lunch or for a spontaneous shopping trip. As the weather moves towards (hopefully) a more constant state of warmth we are looking forward to afternoon walks and stretching out our winter limbs into the sunshine as we talk about life, love, work and our goals and desires for the year to come.

What I've come to realize, especially in working here at TWWI, is that my mom's wild and wonderful spirit and love for the outdoors was planted in my heart by her early on. It is often our conversations and her vivaciousness for living life to the fullest that fuel my passionate words and support of this organization. As a young woman my mother could no longer ignore the call of Wild West. She packed up her things, said good bye to her friends and family in Bay City, Michigan and bought a one way ticket to Colorado. Her journey was set to start at A-Basin Ski Resort where she had landed a job as a waitress. As she hitch-hiked in from the airport (Something she tells me, "You must never do!") and over Loveland Pass she could feel a sense of contentment rise in her heart, the sign for the Continental Divide pointing the way to life she had dreamed of for so long. That night she settled into her tiny room in the top of the historic A-frame lodge and went to sleep knowing that she was home.

I still tell that story to all my friends every time I drive past A Basin. There is also the one about her breaking her leg long boarding down Loveland Pass, or the 1975 photo collage still hanging in The Snake River Saloon in Silverthorne where she worked as a waitress and was known for her lovely legs. The owner still knows her by name and delights us with stories of her "saloon girl days." In albums there are old pictures of my mother, slim and tan, smiling out from a tent, on a hike, cross country skiing, biking and on a ski lift wearing the longest skis I've ever seen. My mother was so beautiful and as her smile continues to light up everyone in a room, I think to myself how stunning she still is. Every time she is outdoors she lifts her arms to the sky, takes a deep breath and says, "I just love this place. I just love this beautiful place." And I love it too.

On this Mother's Day, I'd like to say thank you to my mom for encouraging my heart to be wild, for supporting me in my tom boy days, and then taking me to buy my first tube of mascara and blush at the Clinique make-up counter. My mom has shown me that you don't have to wait for anyone to make your dreams come true but that there are wonderful people who you will come across in life that will make these dreams richer. She nursed me in tents, had me behind her on her bike rides and caught me at the end of my bunny slope runs when I was learning to ski. She found a wonderful man in my father who shared these same passions and whom she knew she could count on to help her grow her daughter's wild heart.

Now in her fifties, she remains active but likes to joke around, calling herself "a delicate wildflower" when her legs are tired after a day of skiing or if she is breathless after a hike. But to me, she is still like the wild flowers you see blanketing the hills in Colorado's summers: arms spread, face lifted to the sky, beckoning you to come and stand with them, letting your roots settle into the warm dirt, knowing that your heart has found its home. So wild. So wonderful. I love you, mom.