What could have been a bittersweet weekend for me actually turned out to be nothing short of amazing. You see for the past four years we have participated in the Geneva ritual of migrating to the mountains every weekend until the end of March. We rented a gorgeous chalet and spent our weekends skiing and enjoying the mountain life. I finally learned how to ski and actually looked forward to it.
This year is very different. There is no chalet and I have been wondering what in the world I would do on the weekends if I wasn’t in the mountains. ( I know, very first world problems). Granted we live close enough to several ski stations that we could go to for the day and come back home… but it is not the same, trust me.
So when my children’s father informed me that he would be taking the boys skiing on Saturday, I had all sorts of feels. I knew winter was coming, but damn! Just another example of my new normal. The emails (we rarely speak like normal people) started flying between the x-hole and me. To determine who will take the kids skiing each weekend, because they shouldn’t miss out on the ski season because of our adult foolishness.
I had tons of work to catch up on but knew that I would be less then motivated to do it while I sat at home alone wishing I was in the mountains. And just like that my friend’s sister invited me to Paris for the weekend! Paris is always a good idea, so I booked a place on the train and packed a bag.
Instead of sitting at home and hosting a pity party, I was able to get out of town, get my work done and to soak up the je ne sais quoi that is the Parisian culture. Life is good.
The universe is always conspiring in our favour.