Park City

Last weekend, I wasn't necessarily looking forward to going on a vacation. People kept asking if I was excited, and the only answer I could muster was a hazy, lazy, unconvincing, 'yep.' 

As I reluctantly answered with an affirmative, there was a list of things that could potentially go wrong tallying in my mind. Swirling and whirling, they were stressing me out, making me consider whether or not right here at home is the place to stay forever.  

Let's see: 

- The flight could be cancelled. Or just delayed for hours ... and hours ... and hours. 

- The babies could get sick, ear infections to be specific. We would fly across the country with wailing piercing through the aisle.

- Worse, we could all get Covid. Or just be directly exposed, forced to quarantine on the ground in pure boredom for the next five days. 

- My parents wouldn't be able to get there in time or at all, siting Covid or winter storms. 

- I would lose my fight for the last remaining mini van at the rental car agency. (well that did happen, and then there was a car with a flat tire offered to us, and then they tried to over charge us for the last remaining car that vaguely resembled my Honda Odyssey.) 

- Peter and I would spontaneously combust from all the schlepping and luggage carrying. 

- Something could go wrong with the house reservation. Or the crib rental. 

- Our ski passes and ski lessons wouldn't register when we hit the mountain, and we would have to recommit another fortune to securing our right to ski. 

In the era of Covid, in a world with 17-month old twins, with unpredictability everywhere I turn, my expectations are at a very unreasonable, but perhaps relatable level. The notion of going on vacation seems almost foreign to me at times and looking forward to one seems like a lost cause. 

I also have a bit of anxiety these days about leaving home in the first place. That is, leaving routine, leaving what's working and fearing that a vacation will throw everything and everyone off. (As my daughter wails in the background, too tired from five days of a lot of activity.)  

But somehow, maybe because of the reason for the vacation, all the things that could go wrong, went right. After arriving and sleeping well on Wednesday night, after saying goodbye to my parents, Caroline and Jacqueline at our rental house the next morning, after dropping Mary and Bobby at their ski lesson, after giving Margaret a hug and wishing her luck at ski school, after the lift attendant checked our ski passes and they did indeed work, Peter and I rose up the mountain. I looked at him and said out loud, 'oh my goodness, we did it.' Whether or not Peter was thinking the same thing the whole time, he gave me a look that confirmed his disbelief.

We were on vacation. We made it happen. After all the looks in the airport signaling how crazy we were as parents, we proved them all wrong. And it felt absolutely amazing. Even better when the wind was beating against me as I flew down the mountain. And better yet when we had a glass of champagne at lunch. Every day we were there brought new memories and new moments that were worth the schlep, that proved that vacations were back and that I needed to take them. We collected photos skiing with the kids, using the hot tub for apres ski, going up and down the mountain with my Dad for the first time in six years, laughing with my Mom and thanking her gratuitously for babysitting the twins, watching the Olympics all together, and not worrying about work. At least not that much. 

As we left Park City on Sunday morning, driving down the mountain, back into Salt Lake City. My eyes welled up a bit. It went too fast. Bobby was asking if we could ski right now. And it would be at least another year until we were skiing out west again. As the four in the back of my car fell asleep - yes, there were two cars - remember, I lost the fight for the minivan - I thought about the images I had from them on vacation, outside of their routine, outside of pandemic life. 

Bobby skiing fiercely down blues and even a black diamond. 

Mary going from deathly afraid of the steep, long pitch of Silver Skis and Payday, to following my turns all the way down the hill, proud as can be as she got back to the base both times. 

Margaret riding the lift up with me, smiling from ear to ear, and then holding on to my hand all the way down the hill. 

The babies getting to play with their Nana and Opa throughout vacation - getting quality time with their grandparents in such a beautiful place. 

And Peter and I getting to share in an activity that we both love so much. Seeing our kids embrace it as well. Plotting and planning when we could go back. 

So that's why we do it - why we waddle through airports, stuff luggage carts to the brim, wrestle babies who won't nap for three and a half hours on the plane, spend the money, say some prayers, and go on adventures. Because the stories we come back with, colored by the effort it took to create them, are what I live for. And what I'm celebrating today. 

Lo.