I found myself searching VRBOs at a local-ish ski place early this morning. After the Disneyland debacle and the unwelcome lesson that what is wonderful for some just isn’t for me, Mike and I decided he would take Ax on an exciting spring break boys adventure and I would stay home and enjoy some solo time.
But then yesterday my friend the On It Mom was talking about how much they are looking forward to skiing and snowshoeing and bird watching and all manner of winter fun over spring break and I forgot myself. She painted a picture of happy, sporty, memorable family togetherness that I want too.
And I remembered — maybe 20 years ago now — going skiing at that mountain and very much enjoying the feeling of hot-tubbing in the snow after using muscles that weren’t usually used. I didn’t remember being too cold.
I thought, “I could do that!”
And so the VRBO-searching began. I found a reasonably priced ski in/ski out condo (never mind that Ax has never skied and it’s been more than a while for Mike and me). Then I started looking at lift tickets.
In the upper right-hand corner of the screen it said the current temperature — ZERO Fahrenheit — with little snowflake graphics dancing around it.
I immediately closed the browser and went back to doing what I’d meant to be doing now with my early morning precious time — drinking coffee while staring out MY living room window at the morning light coming up. Patting Cleo on my lap, breathing in and out, noticing how I creep so easily back into trying to be, wanting to be, different or better than I am. Forgiving myself for that habit, and moving on with my day as it is, as I am, which is so much easier, and so much harder, than the other way.
I’m gonna keep going. Thank you.