I would like to share a view on holidays/vacations from my friend in France.
As part of our series of joint posts, the Lady E (“Poor Cow”) and I explore the roles these special times away from the daily routine played in our defunct relationships.
My own take on “holidays/vacations” can be found here.
E has a 7-year old and a 2-year old, and a sometimes friendly / sometimes distant ex who left with little warning in January.
Her perspective on holidays/vacations is:
The thing is, planning a family, having a family and destroying it in the space of two and a half years, did not leave much time for holidays and vacation. In fact, I have come to realise that since I have known T, my life has been rivalling your average TGV (a high-speed French train) in terms of speed, both in building and subsequently destroying everything… And right now, I want nothing more than to get off that runaway train, vomit, and look up at the station’s name because I don’t know where I am.Only last Summer, T and I got a chance to escape without the kids for a few days to the wild and beautiful Lozère region of Southern France. We slept in, hiked around the high plateaux, and indulged in the fabulous local cuisine. I fell in love with this coffee pot (as you do) at the farm we stayed in.
One evening, we got out as the sun was setting, and walked fast in the fading light, the smell of baked earth and dampness rising, the distant bells of sheep heading back to the farm, and birds calling out to each other. We stopped by the edge of a cliff and sat in silence, watching the sun sink behind the Causse. He tickled my ear with some grass and I squealed in outrage, before taking this picture.
On the way back, we stopped at the Mount Aigoual weather observatory, and watched a thunderstorm approach. The wind pushed dark clouds from the West, and we could see lightning striking in the distance, we ran to the car and made it just in time to see fat splodges of rain beat the windscreen. We shivered breathless and discheveled, and I kissed him before reversing the car for the drive down, back to the children and our daily lives.
The storm passed, and the tension between us had eased. After a year of fire-fighting and stress, we finally had a chance to find each other again, to re-connect and imperceptibly start closing whatever distance may have been created by the stresses of moving in together, having a new baby, no job for me, too much work for him, and two children to care for.
Nadyia ft Enrique Iglesias – Tired of being sorry: