I hear dreams are healthy…

A few weeks ago – as I watched the snowfall increase and the snowflakes growing bigger by the minute, memories of everyday routines from long lost life in the alps washed over me: The greetings from the bus driver when he stopped right in the tricky corner of the road to pick me up, even though they weren’t allowed. The kids happy faces as they return to our meeting point, chatting and eagerly telling me all about their skiing from yesterdays afternoon. Their parents proudly agreeing to the marvel of how great their kid did in the big, steep slope, and with a lecturing expression asking me what slopes we will go down today. Constantly neglecting that I’m an instructor, I know the kids status and most of all: I’m responsible for 12 kids on the slopes. We do the slopes I see fit, end of story. Of course I never said that… And the gathering with the other instructors at the end of the day, hanging around the mountain bar for a beer before the long longed run down the valley…
It wasn’t a better life, it wasn’t an exciting life but it was a good life and I’d be lying if I’d say I don’t miss it – not all day, but almost every day. When I’m older I’ll re-educate and do something entirely outdoors or at least bodily active… Maybe a gym instructor, I could do that…
I hear dreams are healthy, even though you may not achieve them – ‘cus you may always change them.


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