I didn’t write a word the whole week, but still the part of me that is usually only satiated by writing was fulfilled. I was creating memory.
Vacation is time out of time, vacating our regular routines, trying something new. A family vacation lets you relish in something familiar in a place that you’ve never been to before. It’s not necessarily restful, or even easy all the time, but it reties bonds and provides the core stuff of memory. I was on an Atlantic beach, up each morning at sunrise, in the waves everyday. I am stained with salt and sun and faces of my family. I think the week is best encapsulated with the words of my 3 year old grandson who on coming into our room just after 6 am said, “the sun’s already up in my room Nana, is it up in yours yet?” And with his entrance, it rose.
This morning I am sitting on the back porch with one of my dearest friends looking out at Lake Superior and shifting in conversation from a long ago shared past to our present, and into plans for the future. It’s a gentle day, a soft temperature, clear sky. Even as I sit here I know that tomorrow on my way back home this will be a memory, one I can draw on to find it’s way into a piece of writing.