My brother has been visiting for a few days. The men folk went out ski-touring every day. I mostly stayed at home on the balcony, knocked out by a chest infection, but knitting to my heart's content in the sunshine.
It's hard to describe how wonderful it is when a family member or close friend comes out to visit. Walking to the boulangerie to buy the morning croissants. Cooking dinner for him. Flopping on his bed and talking like when he was still living at home. Sharing with them little aspects of my life out here.
I treasure these intense moments spent together. Even the most mundane task becomes special simply because for a short time, we are doing it together.
When they go back again, it can be hard. But to know they've been here, walked through these village streets and along these valley paths is enough.
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