Evacuated

On what should have been another day of vacation, complete with floating aimlessly in the pool and watching Baby’s delight over the waves lapping at her toes, I am stretched out on my couch at home, watching the sun struggle to break through the clouds, about halfway done our vacation laundry, while my travel-weary loves nap upstairs.

At 8pm last night, we received orders to evacuate our beach house sanctuary and at 4am today we were on the road. We’ve outrun Hurricane Irene by a good 48 hours. But I suppose this isn’t the kind of thing you want to cut too close.

Greeting the end of vacation is always rough, as is saying goodbye to family and friends. But it’s rougher when it happens suddenly and ahead of schedule. My heart aches to think of all of the memories we could have made with two more days. The time Baby would have spent with her grandparents, aunt, and great aunt and uncle. We didn’t have time to prepare her, like we normally do for big events like long car rides or departures from a place she thinks of as home. And all day today she has clearly felt very out of sorts.

Two more days of lazy mornings spent drinking coffee and catching up with family, energetic afternoons spent chasing Baby around the beach, and evenings spent laughing and playing board games sound heavenly right now. Spending even just a few days focusing on nothing but the people around you and the time you are spending with them is good for the soul.

But since we can’t have two more days at the beach, my goal for the next two days is to still not rush back into things. Instead, I’ll take my time and embrace my enforced mini-staycation. I won’t jump right back into work. I won’t forfeit my vacation day tomorrow and head into the office. I won’t stress over all of the to-dos that usually keep me running. I’ll take it easy and hold onto my vacation glow with all my might.