I'm in the backseat of my car right now, for maybe the third or fourth time in the two years that I've owned it. My husband is in the driver's seat and my mom is riding shotgun. She spent the week with us and we're driving to the Maryland House to meet my brother, who will drive her the rest of the way back to Philadelphia. It's the Grandma hand-off. It's old lady human trafficking. I had planned to drive her myself but my husband got up and insisted on driving. I don't love sitting in the backseat but it's nice not to have to pay attention to the road.
It's been a long week, but I think my mom enjoyed herself and that's all that matters. But now I have some work to do. We're very different, my mom and me. She is very messy and I am not. When she visits, she brings at least twice as much stuff as anyone could possibly need (OK, we have that in common) and she spreads out, occupying every room and distributing her belongings across every available surface. It's been chaos. And I'm going to go home and restore order.
*****
It’s Sunday now, and just about a perfect day weather-wise. My house is clean, top to bottom, and everything is back in its rightful place. Even my car is clean. I have some volunteer work to catch up on, but there’s nothing else on the to-do list except swimming and watching the Olympics. Our crape myrtle is in full bloom, so heavy with flowers that the branches are sagging a bit under the weight. It’s my favorite kind of late summer day, which means that of course I’m anxious about the many things that could go wrong. I wish I wasn’t like this but I am.
*****
I’m back in the office this week after a week of telework. This is my pre-vacation week, and I have lots to do, at work and at home, but that just makes the vacation that much better.
And I like the pre-vacation week for its own sake, too. We get creative with meals, using up whatever is in the refrigerator. We eat out the night before we leave, making it the official first night of vacation. I start packing, just a little bit; or rather, I start planning to pack. Beach week packing is a project because we have to bring linens and towels as well as clothes. But packing the clothes is quite easy because I am very familiar with the climate and the fashion environment of Avalon NJ, so I know just what I’ll need.
*****
It’s August 1 now, and I’m still reeling from what turned out to be a pretty extraordinary July. July always goes by very fast, even as you look back to the beginning of the month and think how long ago the Independence Day holiday seems now. July 4 seems like a distant memory in a very memorable July. And August will also fly by and we’ll be sending our son back to college in five minutes, but on Labor Day, I’ll look back to August 1 and it will seem like it was ages ago. Tomorrow is my last workday. We leave for the beach on August 3.
*****
Not long ago somebody forwarded a post from a dumbass influencer who said something about sad little American weeklong vacations and how looking forward to your vacation is a sure sign that your life is stunted and confined and miserable. I guess we should all quit our jobs, buy expensive rock climbing outfits, and post smarmy videos in beautiful outdoor settings. I wonder if the geniuses who say things like this have any thoughts about who will do the world’s work if we all decide to drop out and live our best lives. Morons.
I’m right here to say that I’m looking forward to my week of beach life. I’m looking forward to biking and swimming and jumping waves and reading books and wearing shorts and t-shirts and flip-flops every day. And I’ll be happy to return to my regular life after it ends because I like my regular life, even the hard parts. But even people who like their regular lives need a break from their routine, no matter what that routine looks like. Everyone needs an occasional change of pace.
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