Yesterday, we packed up the car and we drove away.
10 minutes into our trip, we stopped in our neighboring town of Stockbridge to gas up the car and get some money from the ATM. Joey and the girls waited for me as I walked the block from the car to the bank, and as I made my way through all the tourists who had come to see Norman Rockwell’s very own Main Street, the whole town looked different to me. Because with the slam of the trunk that contained our bathing suits and books to read for the week, I became one who is on vacation. And even being in Stockbridge, the town that I drive through most days to pick up the girls from school, I felt different, like I could wander down the 2 or 3 alleys that the town has to offer, like I could discover something and then have an ice cream cone. Vacation, it seems, is all about a certain way of thinking about it all.
And today we are in Maine, on our favorite island of Peaks, just 20 minutes off my favorite city of Portland. The girls have planned out their ice cream flavors, and they have brought special sea glass collecting bags. Happy Monday, friends. I hope there is some part of your day today that feels at least a bit like a vacation.