The problem with vacations is that they require a return to reality; and I, for one, return slowly. This is why I want to be sleeping in my own bed for at least one night and have one day to myself before returning to work.
My Mother, on the other hand, would jet in at two in the morning, drive to her house, and sleep a couple hours before rising to be on the job. She preferred to milk every ounce of pleasure from her trip rather than have a down day at home.
My mother’s regime notwithstanding, yesterday I slept till nine o’clock, took my time unpacking, went for a long walk, and generally tried to remember phone numbers and other codes that had receded far from my conscious mind. I even had to look up my son’s telephone number to get it right. I dipped my mental toe in the waters of memory, recalling that I do indeed work for fredflare.com and that I blog every day in the hope of making it big. I also dabble at piano and like to keep a tidy home.
In the days to come, the memory of this wonderful vacation will recede from my mind; and I’ll be more committed to life in the present. I’ll enjoy piano and writing. When Spring is really around the corner, I’ll miss the sun less. In the meantime, I reveled in the reality of that precious day between vacation and regular routine.
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