unfortunate snowboarding incident, and I'm happy to say I have no new broken bones to report.
While in Colorado, I had plenty of time to rest. It’s no secret that resting isn't always easy for me. I tend to choose "doing," getting things checked off my list and quickly moving to the next thing. As I sat at a coffee shop in Vail, reading the memoir Paris in Love, I came across this excerpt from the book (written by a woman whose family spent a one-year sabbatical in France):
"The French walk slowly. They amble down the street, meet friends and spend two minutes kissing, then plant themselves, chatting as if they were created for this moment. My husband and I walk like New Yorkers: fast, dodging obstacles, glancing at windows, going places. It's taken a few months... but I now keep thinking: Where am I going that's so urgent, when all these French people don't agree?"
She's right! What am I doing that's so urgent? Such a delightful and freeing observation. I was happy to embrace the French ways for the rest of my trip. I stopped looking at email on my phone, stopped looking at my watch and enjoyed the moments, the mountains and the friends.
Not even our flight home—which was complete with a 3-month-old who started screaming (and I mean, SCREAMING) before the plane even left the gate—could disturb my rejuvenated self after my weekend away. While my heart went out to that baby, his parents and all the nearby passengers (they were at least 15 rows behind), even more annoying was the drunk guy two rows behind us who decided to imitate the screaming baby. But no, I (mostly) didn’t let him get to me either.
Then I went back to work and, well, there's still room for improvement on the whole resting and de-stressing thing for me, but I’m rejoicing in the small, joy-filled victories.