We are back in Lake Tahoe. When I announced this plan, several friends consoled me, clearly remembering the challenges of our last trip to the mountains. This was sort of funny, because one of them did it in front of Rob, and although I think he knows that Tahoe is not at the top of my travel list, I’m sure he was surprised to hear that I was accepting condolences.

“Sarah is taking one for the team,” he said, playing the good sport.

In many ways, it’s a silly thing for me to complain about. We stay at arguably the nicest hotel in the area, and Scarlett and Rob both love skiing. We found out that friends will be up this weekend, and the weather is beautiful. The best part is that our van is working again, and so I’m in my comfortable wheelchair, sitting at a desk by the window, looking out at the sun-covered snow.

I can see skiers coming down the mountain. I have to squint my eyes because at one point I am pretty sure there’s a penguin skiing down. But I realize it’s just a very small child dressed in black and tilted forward in that fearless way that children have. The penguin child zooms out of sight.

As I cannot be alone for any lengthy period of time, we have hired a caregiver through a local agency. Her name is Olivia, and one of her first questions is if I’m American. She asks this as she’s brushing my hair into a ponytail. According to her, I do not have American hair. I feel oddly flattered by this. Olivia is from Mexico, and has lived in the US for 24 years. Her hair is dark, curly and beautiful.

When we arrived yesterday, I was having a little bit of trouble breathing. Our room wasn’t ready, so we sat at the outdoor barbecue area, and I leaned back, refusing to speak to anyone. I knew I was okay, but I was feeling irritable and conspicuous, as the only person in a wheelchair. Normally in these situations I like to be very smiley, so that people don’t feel sorry for me. But I couldn’t pull it together in that moment. Later, as Rob went to the front desk to check on the room, Scarlett dashed away from me and down the stairs in his direction. My phone was under a pile of clothes that she had dumped on my lap, and after 15 minutes I finally wrestled it to the top and was able to call Rob.

“Where are you?” I asked irritably. People at the hotel were being too nice, hovering to see if I needed anything, when all I needed was for one of my family members to remember that I was waiting for them, and that I can’t operate an elevator by myself. I told Rob that the next time Scarlett leaves me alone and shows up where he is, to immediately send her back. Then, for good measure, I said it three more times, and he got annoyed with me.

I was reminded of the beginning to a Tenacious D song, where Jack Black plays one chord, and then declares “I don’t like that. So far, off to a bad start.”

This morning, while Scarlett was devouring a cinnamon roll, I asked her what I should do while she and Rob were skiing.

“Just be with your babysitter,” she said seriously, and I couldn’t help but laugh. My attitude is already softening, and I think this trip could be an improvement on the last one. Or as Jack Black goes on to say after his next chord, “Better. Warmer. Closer.”

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