After a long day (with a lot of washing, a simple dinner (spaghetti, bacon, butter, parmesan) and a good film) I went to bed at 8.42 pm last night. And as I lay there I counted the hours I would be able to sleep before hearing the sound of the alarm. 1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10 hours.. and 3 minutes. I fell asleep with a smile on my face – mind clear and body tired from a week of skiing.
The snow was perfect, the weather was nice and I was way better at skiing than I remembered. The best thing was being with my boyfriend, seeing him relaxed and not thinking too much about the PhD. Every day he’d come up to me, kiss me and thank me for his Christmas present (skis). And one night in bed next to each other, exhausted from a day of exercise, he looked at me and said “we’re going to come back, we’re going to do this together again – you and me – right?” And I nodded and closed my eyes and thanked someone high above for hooking me up with this man.
And on the boat on the way home – double espressos in our hands (after way too much instant in the past week) – exactly a year since my Dad’s operation, I once again closed my eyes and found myself extremely thankful for having my father around, for skiing with him, for a great week with the most important men in my life – and for them getting along great.