It’s amazing how every day feels like a Saturday when you’re on vacation. Stay up late, sleep-in until an undignified hour and nap whenever you feel sleepy.
This summer I am taking vacation. Time to rest. Time to recharge and time to catch up on those important, life-giving activities that I have let fall by the wayside for the sake of being a responsible adult.
For me, vacation is reconnecting to my roots, to the core of who I am and how I came to be here. As often as possible, I spend my vacation time in the place that feels most like home: New Brunswick.
I stand on the beach. I feel the tides coming in and going out. I drink blueberry wine and eat too much lobster. Though, there really is no such thing as too much lobster.
Vacation time has given me new energy and new inspiration for storytelling. Crisp, fresh images come to mind when I’m near the ocean. Where the salt breeze blows in off the bay and chills my earlobes. The marshes, green and vast are a poetic song. How I wish I could take them with me when I return to the everyday. Bottle the sea breeze. Fill a bag with sandy beaches and shattered clam shells. Carry the essence of a busy fishing village on my back.
All I can hold when journeying a long way from home is words. Living words that paint pastel skies and sketch swaying marshes. Words that cradle family stories; baby birds in cupped hands.
Dream of home and fill your lungs with the places that first gave you breath.
A long expected vacation is all you need to be alive again.
Do your vacations take you home, to the root of your root?