I swear that we were just on a gorgeous mountainside in Asheville, North Carolina in the amazing-in-every-way Grove Park Inn. I'm sure that we were wandering the stone halls of the Biltmore Estate, drinking indescribably delicious rosemary peach lemonade at the Tupelo Honey Cafe (more on this soon - and yes, I will write a whole post about this lemonade) and taking pictures of things like wild bamboo and winding country roads. I'm positive that we ate really late dinners and even woke around 9 AM once (oh, the joy of seeing those numbers when I opened my eyes!) I know all this is true with my rational mind, but the feeling of it is gone, evaporated into memory, where barely any remnants remain.
That's the case with vacations I guess. Especially coming home to the dreaded end of May, where schedules new and old collide in some kind of laughable matrix of confusion. I don't know why I expected the vacation vibe to continue. But I did. And it didn't.
I was so ready to come home and see the kids. I loved every second as they ran into my arms at school and the bus stop; but reality bites at times, and within moments, life was right back to normal, with all it's ups and downs in tow. Just the way we love it, I suppose.
We may only have the chance to exchange this reality for the other in brief snippets every few years, so even though it has evaporated, I'll keep my mental stronghold focused tight on the 80+ hours Mike and I had to be grown ups, eat amazing food, talk, dream, live off the grid and the strangling schedules we keep, and reconnect. And the next time someone pukes in the middle of the night or talks back in that oh-so-wonderful-way, I'll return to that one tiny spot in my mind where the vacation vapors still linger, to keep me going until next time.
i wish i didn't hate may