The first time we went up “the mountain,” it was early fall—just a couple of weeks after we moved into separate houses. “The mountain,” in reality, is a local ski hill (and yes, mountain is a generous term) that offers ski lift rides in the fall for leaf viewing. At the top, you get a sweeping view of the Ottawa Valley and, in theory, a kaleidoscope of autumn colours.
With the separation still fresh, I was determined to do something special with the kids. I thought a scenic ride and some great fall photos would be a brilliant idea—and the ski lift would be a hit. So I packed lunches, loaded everyone into the car, and made the hour-long drive with the goal of doing something different.
As with most things, it didn’t go exactly to plan.
☔ How I Remember It
The rain started as a drizzle and turned into a full downpour on the way down. The temperature was decent at the base, but at the top—between the rain and the wind—it was downright miserable. We had planned a short hike, but after about ten minutes of soggy wandering, we called it off.
To make matters worse, I was called into an emergency Teams meeting, which I unceremoniously took while huddled with both kids on the ski lift ride down. Picture it: me, two creatures in rain jackets, rain falling, trying to stay warm. When it was my turn to speak, the only thing on screen was our damp little trio. One coworker messaged me afterward, laughing, “The confused looks on their faces made it hilarious. Were they having fun or being punished?”
👦 How My Son Remembers It
He remembers it being cold and rainy. He thought the ski lift was awesome—scary at first, but not too bad. The top was cold and kind of miserable, but the ride down was fun. We stopped at a bakery afterward for treats. His verdict? “Pretty awesome.”
👧 How My Daughter Remembers It
She remembers it being cold and windy. She doesn’t recall the rain (to be fair, she was only three). It wasn’t the year she lost her voice—that was the next year.
🍂 How It Became a Tradition
A year later, life had settled a bit. One day, my son asked, “When are we going up the mountain?” And just like that, it became a thing.
Every fall since, we’ve gone up the mountain. Each year is a little different. Last year, it was 30 degrees, and we finally did the full hiking trail at the top. I’ve come to realize that for kids navigating two homes and more emotional complexity than I probably understand, stability and traditions matter—a lot.
Small rituals, like taking a ski lift to see the fall colours, help create stories and memories. It becomes something they do at Dad’s house—just the three of us—and that makes it special.
🧠 Why Traditions Matter After Divorce
Childhood is built on the stories we remember. I believe that deeply. The better the stories, the more likely we are to look back with warmth.
So what makes this fall tradition so special? Years from now, when I’m old and they’re adults talking to their own kids, they won’t tell stories about how hard divorce was or the logistics of two homes. They’ll talk about that time Dad took them up a ski lift in the middle of a rainstorm—and that will be the biggest win.