And . . . vacation is over. Kind of. We drove home yesterday in a bit of a daze, almost making wrong turns twice (turning south instead of north) after stopping for gas. It’s not that our house is bad, or yucky – we love our kitchen and our dogs and all of our homey comforts. It’s just that where we were was so spectacular.
For starters was the view. We are water people. Mountains are nice, but they don’t calm us the way water does – even when it’s acting snorty. Coffee by the plate glass window yesterday morning overlooking the grey sky and whipped-up waves? As mesmerizing as the magazine-worthy sunrise the day before.
We talked about why, exactly, this was such a great vacation. We go places every year, which we realize is nothing to complain about. My parents live in Vermont, my mother-in-law south of Houston, and we have a good friend with a house in Santa Fe. Our vacations to family-or-friend places have been the kind that a lot of people savor in their heads (not that we don’t, trust me. It’s just the kind of “good burger” savor as opposed to “the best ever roast beef” savor.)
This one, though, had more. The city of Charleston was 15 minutes away, with any shopping we needed more like 5 minutes. The beach was accessible by foot or bike via our own private boardwalk. Bikes were under the house (we brought those) and a mostly-level, one-street-back-for-quiet neighborhood that even had bike paths right there. Three cars meant that people could do what they wanted. The huge living room/dining room/kitchen space had room for 5 different activities at once, though a movie in the middle of that got tough with volume levels. The back deck, complete with comfy outdoor furniture and a sort-of working fire pit, beckoned us almost every day.
We’re back to our everyday life now. How to recapture some of what we loved about that place is high on our priority list. An everyday vacation – how badass would that be?