I’m lucky that my sister and her husband have a time share in Aspen and invited me and V to stay with them for a few days in such an incredibly beautiful place. I’m lucky that even though V wasn’t able to come, I could come myself. I’m lucky that I get to relax for a few days and breathe in clean mountain air and re-visit a place I haven’t seen since H and I learned to ski in Aspen 25 years ago. I’m lucky I get to eat a lot of great food and drink a lot of great wine and walk around a beautiful place and watch a lot of mostly beautiful people doing the same thing. I’m lucky that seeing my side of the family—who all live on the east coast— is always a joy and never an obligation. I’m lucky that we look for these extra times to connect– such as last weekend in Chicago. I”m lucky we can take advantage of these opportunities, unlike many other families. I’m lucky that our separations are due to distance and not to choice. I’m lucky the people in my family make me laugh and don’t make me cry. (And did I mention the food?)
And that’s my answer to comments on yesterday’s post wondering why I’m in Aspen and remarking on my relationship with Carla and Paul.
Though three can be tricky, I’m lucky it’s easy and relaxed for us and always has been. I’m lucky it works so well, even though we’re so different in some ways—such as their hobbies which mean they bring along tons of equipment like golf clubs and bikes and helmets and water bottles and shoes for all of these things. I’m lucky that I can travel light and still enjoy my hobbies and all I need is a pair of hiking boots—-and a fork.
And I really do feel lucky—for all of it. Most of all, I feel lucky to be alive.