Sunday morning I left town with a duffle bag, a yoga mat and a whole lot of outdoor winter sport gear.
It wasn’t a planned trip, rather in impromptu series of days that cropped up waiving the welcoming flag of reprieve and escape. With a little time, a little money and a small group of wonderful women, I almost felt I couldn’t go.
For a few short days reality was suspended as I literally floated through a series of activities, each better than the next: a long americano and cinnamon bun fuelled breakfast, a winter hike, a gondola ride, a yoga class, salty sweet potatoe fries at the pub. Giggling in bed like elementary school girls, not women in their 30s. Cross Country Skiing while the mountains danced around us during a bluebird day. Talking about love and life and careers, children and husbands and houses, I was reminded of the power of retreat and of friendship.
I would have given anything for a couple more days of mountain air and change of pace, but the time away from life did me well.
The Mountains are Calling and I Must Go. -John Muir