My life and personality prevent me from fully succumbing to relaxation. When I was young, my mom told me she could only stop working if she was out of town. At home, there were too many chores to finish.
Either due to her nurture or my own nature, vacation is the only time I allow myself to unwind. A few years ago, my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary in Hawaii. There was a time when I was lying on the beach with eyes closed and ears attuned to the lapping water. There, I met my happy place.
Since that day, I have judged all other moments of relaxation by the “Hawaii Beach” standard. Up to now, no occasion has risen to the same level. But sometimes I get close.
Riding a lazy river today, I felt that calm. Soft rock was blasting from a nearby speaker. My daughters’ were floating comfortably in their inner tubes. I laid back in my own tube and sank into the moment.
It was blissful. Short lived but on the precipice of attaining ‘Hawaii Standard.’
If only I was actually on vacation instead of five minutes from my home. Maybe then it could become my new measure?
Or will nothing ever match my elusive ideal?
I don’t know, but I can still have fun trying to recreate the experience.
K