I am on vacation this week. My first real time away from home in two years. I am snugged up tight in my little green beach escape out on Dauphin Island, AL. I have never been down in October and have no idea what to expect. This week I will be posting a daily fast write (WiFi permitting) before I go out and stick my toes in the gulf.
I am tired. Not that physical tired, but a deep emotional out-of-gas tired. The kind, if I tried to push through, might have bad results. This past year taking care of the mama has been amazing, but taxing. I recognized this coming and booked my favorite beach house on my favorite beach in all of the US.
The drive down was mostly uneventful except for the exploding toilet in the welcome center rest area in Alabama. I was sure this was some kind of punishment for the the War of Northern Aggression. Oh, but wait, I live in a state below the Mason-Dixon too. Stupid toilet. This little incident might have ruined the day, had it not been for a tiny fashionista who commented on my new shoes which happen to be Skechers. Fashion conversation with a seven year old ensued. I told her not to use the exploding toilet, to which she answered "Ewwwwww" like only a small girl child can. That perfectly voiced my own feeling. We agreed we rocked the Skechers like a boss and proceeded to runway stomp out of the bathroom.
Part of the reason I love traveling by myself is stuff like this, small connections that are made and dissolved in a blink of an eye. Those happen less when I travel with someone. Perhaps I am more focused on them or the destination or something. Maybe it's as simple as relaxation kicking in and feeling like there is time. Time to be kind. To talk to strangers. To capare shoes. To giggle. To be someone else. To be more me. All of the above.
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