One More Day
Vacations always end. Their importance never does
Vacation.
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On the last evening of vacation, I sat on the deck facing the ocean and wished for one more day. The sun slipped behind the rented condo, metaphorical. People walked the beach, happy with one another. Life on the beach is everlasting, even as we are not. One more day.
Beach vacations promise an idyll, a week of the Jimmy Buffet Life. What they represent is an idea, the belief that we really can slow down, ease off the work pedal and let the sand occupy our toes. One more day.
It’s more than that, though. Vacation wouldn’t work if overt pleasures were all it offered. Vacation is sacred for the togetherness it suggests. That one week of total family immersion means everything. It’s a source of strength, our armor against inevitable misfortune and trying times. There will always be a beach, this beach, there for us whenever we need it. Until we no longer do.
One more day.
