We have articles about packing for seasons, training for seasons, what to expect from seasons…but no one ever tells you what it’s like when the season ends. In this article, we explore some of the emotions and feelings you may have as the season comes to a close…
So you are coming to the end of another season… another half year spent in a beautiful place, waking up to a beautiful commute, the feel of the fresh alpine air on your face as you quickly dash into the chalet. Another 5 months spent above the clouds, greeting new faces each week, cleaning and cooking your socks off, treasuring those guests who truly stick in your heart, loving those colleagues who are now best friends and sinking enough overpriced beer to save for a pension.
Another season spent in a winter wonderland, and there is nothing here that would stop you coming back. Soon your little seasonaire bubble will pop and you will be headed back home. The facial tans are coming along and little sunburnt noses shine away under the harsh lights of the kitchen as you cook up one of the last alpine dinners of the season.
So what have you learned this season? What have you improved on? Have you mastered the art of packing for a half year period? Have you lived through a life motto of ‘buy cheap and buy twice’ and been a sucker for in-resort prices? Or waited for the sales? You should be better skiers or boarders, should have learned to trust your gut more, maybe adventured off piste into the deepest snow, or maybe your cooking has improved… but you should have definitely mastered the balance between work and play.
Although lately you may have felt as though you’re in a constant state of torn emotions. Pure excitement and nervousness all at once. Mostly at the thought of not knowing what’s coming next (if you haven’t made any post-season plans). And at the same time as being wholly content with your current situation, maybe you have a niggling longing in your stomach for everyone back home.
Don’t let it bring you down – let it remind you of how much you love them. It keeps you grateful. And it means you never take your visits home for granted. Sometimes this feeling is made especially huge in times of sadness or worry for others. But don’t let that cloud of dread fall over you just because you’re not there. If you could cut yourself into a thousand little pieces and give a bit to each person in your heart – of course you would! But that is simply not an option.
Don’t let it bring you down – let it remind you of how much you love them. It keeps you grateful. And it means you never take your visits home for granted. Sometimes this feeling is made especially huge in times of sadness or worry for others. But don’t let that cloud of dread fall over you just because you’re not there. If you could cut yourself into a thousand little pieces and give a bit to each person in your heart – of course you would! But that is simply not an option.
Constantly missing everyone, having them forever swimming around your head is totally normal. Sometimes you might even get teary thinking about the joy that will engulf you next time you see a loved one, but that’s only a good thing. That’s only physical proof that love knows no distance.
Nothing really compares to going home to them, indulging in the familiarity of their faces, voices and smells. Their recognisable cuddles, the way they know how you like your tea, or what terrible cheap horror to flick on in the background while you get caught up on all the gossip you’ve missed. By now you should be getting quite excited to see them.
Nothing really compares to going home to them, indulging in the familiarity of their faces, voices and smells. Their recognisable cuddles, the way they know how you like your tea, or what terrible cheap horror to flick on in the background while you get caught up on all the gossip you’ve missed. By now you should be getting quite excited to see them.
And yet again, a mixture of emotions – the joyful anticipation of seeing old faces but the sadness of losing those new ones you’ve come to love. Seasons are odd. You see the same people every day, who are all going through the same things you are, socialising with them, skiing with them, working with them – you get closer to these people than you ever think you would and yet when the 5 months is up they’re all of a sudden not there.
They’re not at the bar they’re always in, or doing the runs where you can always find them, or lounging in their usual deck chair while the sun glistens through the huge pints of Peroni resting on the table tops. All of a sudden your phone stops buzzing and the thousands of seasonaire group chats that dominate your WhatsApp are silent.
They’re not at the bar they’re always in, or doing the runs where you can always find them, or lounging in their usual deck chair while the sun glistens through the huge pints of Peroni resting on the table tops. All of a sudden your phone stops buzzing and the thousands of seasonaire group chats that dominate your WhatsApp are silent.
It’s a beautiful little bubble you live in. It’s sad when it pops. But you make memories of a lifetime out there. And you get to bring all those stories and wondrous tales back home to the people you’ve missed all that time. It’s a happy sadness leaving and it’s a happy sadness coming home. Happy for the journey, sad that you can’t keep everyone you love in a little pocket. But happy sadness is a good balance. It’s a good place to be. It means things mean something to you. And that is a happy goodness.
As the snow is turning to slush
in your resort, enjoy your last weeks, lap up the lifestyle and all that comes
with it. It’s been an awesome season. Now see it out with a bang…