A year ago today
I was travelling to France for the first of two skiing holidays.
They were both glorious weeks.
Impossibly blue skies, sun glinting on snow, conditions superb.
Perfect days and joyous, noisy, sometimes intimate nights with family, friends and strangers. Laughter and wine and good food.
A ski helmet full of vivid memories.
But this year I have arranged no trips to the mountains.
My ski partner across many years, many trips, many adventures, can no longer ski. Not without the risk of further damaging skiing-torn knee joints.
And I have not been able to summon up the enthusiasm to go without her.
Perhaps next year I will.
This morning, as if to taunt me, or perhaps to commiserate, the snow falls.
Outside my window.
Sadness in soft flakes.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Photo taken in Val d’Isere, France, March 2017 by self