*pilfered from my LJ, befcause it seemed diarylike.*
Yesterday afternoon, I got something back that I've been missing since I left Montreal two years ago.
I got the warmth of the ski team, the sunshine, the high of well-earned physical exhaustion, and the steady scream of jubilant five-year-olds.
February blahs? Sunburned right out of my system, and the big sloppy kiss of one of the children that I temporarily borrowed to use as toboggans and his announcement that he's going to marry me when he grows up clinched that joy real permanent-like.
Sketchyfuck tobogganing is one of the most brilliant ideas we've had so far, and Jacob's enthusiasm made it happen, and the inner child of the crown gathered made it glorious.
Spills and thrills and races and smashing into each other, bruised bottoms and bruised elbows and bruised everything.
I am counting my bruises and couldn't be happier, I haven't had this many since thirty five-year-olds jumped me for the prize-ribbon I was giving out at the last ski event I volunteered at.
I haven't seen so much joy appear in so many faces at once, I haven't heard so many ubridled screams, and I haven't enjoyed post-partum hot chocolate at the ever-gracious hostess' house that much in a very, very long time.
I hadn't realized how much I missed volunteering for the ski team, I'd always been aware of how much it meant to me, but the biggest surprise was that somehow I managed to find that rush elsewhere.
So the big question is -- when are we doing it again? *GRIN*