My husband and I just got back to Houston from a family visit in Montreal, Canada. I love that city. From the bilingual element and temperamental weather, to the decidedly young population living among beautiful old buildings. Montreal has a whole lot to offer.
We generally go twice a year to visit my in-laws, staying on average about one to two weeks at a time. In between the good ol’ family bonding, we usually squeeze in an awesome activity here and there. From learning how to snow board at the nearby resort of Mont Tremblant, train rides to Quebec City, and of course plenty of Cirque du Soleil performances: all barely scratching the surface!
This time around, our visit happened to coincide with one of the coldest winter weeks Montreal has seen in a very long time. With temperatures ranging from -30C to -10C (-22F to 14F) we were perfectly happy to spend most nights bundled up at home introducing my in-laws to the power and wonder of instant streaming on Netflix.
With my father-in-law approaching his mid-70s and my mother-in-law suffering from high cholesterol and diabetes, it wasn’t just the cold that kept us inside this time around. We went to stay with them expecting this trip to be a bit more low-key than usual. This time around, it was a vacation for the soul, of rest, and home cooked meals. And sometimes that’s just perfectly fine.
You see, my husband is really one of the good ones, the kind that doesn’t come around too often. He is the kind of son that grew up realizing his parents were his best friends. The kind who finds joy and content in helping them program different gadgets around the house and taking them to doctor appointments. The kind whose heart literally breaks when he has to leave his parents alone in a frosty city.
So if I can play a small part in making our week together more enjoyable, that’s what I’ll do. Because that’s love.
So to my husband: what’s yours is mine. Your joy is mine, your heartbreak is mine.