Keystone Through the Years

For the past three years, we have been coming to the same condo in Keystone, Colorado. It’s lent to us by a friend, the one who embraces moose décor with a tenacious passion. (She once described herself to me as a home accessory whore. Agreed.)

Two years ago, while my family was out skiing and snowboarding, I was sitting at the condo dining room table churning out billable hours for the law firm – billable hours that the partner who I worked for would ultimately not bill. I sat at the table day after day, working and rewriting and revising and billing, hoping that everyone would stay on the mountain long enough for me to bill 8 hours (on a Sunday).

One year ago, right after the layoff, my husband held me on the condo couch while I broke down. Just a few weeks earlier, our very own mountain condo hadn’t been too far out of reach. Then it seemed like everything we were working for was now out of reach.

This year, I sat at the dining room table in the condo (It was cold – I am a perfect condition skier only) and crafted out my business plan for the franchise, watched the news channels, catnapped, made dinner, painted my toes, and waited eagerly for my family to come home to me from the mountain – generally, acting and feeling like a human being. And I was blissfully happy, feeling like me, feeling like a part of a family.

[P.S. I don’t even want a mountain condo. If we learned anything on the blog this month it is that I am quite fond of Baja.]