We've been chillaxing here in our old stomping ground of San Diego since last Friday. It's been insanely wonderful, hanging with friends, lounging at the beach, playing in the hotel pool.
The first night we were here, we met friends at our favorite pizza place for dinner, then headed down to walk on the beach and watch the sunset. I had to catch my breath to keep the tears back several times, just walking barefoot in the sand and feeling the cool saltwater air swirl around me. My husband noticed the smile of contentment on my face and said, "You miss it, don't you." It was not a question.
Yeah. That's sort of an understatement. He realized then, he said, while we watched the boys play in the surf, that maybe that was why I fought him so hard not to take this vacation. Sometimes it hurts too much to come back.
It does hurt to come back, to this place where I feel the happiest as I ever have, at any point in my life. It hurts to know that we are just visiting, returning each night to a hotel only to board an airplane and go back to real life in a few days. It hurts to admit how much I hate not living here.
But I've gotten over that, I guess. I've managed to hit 3 yoga classes, the boys have seen all their old friends. I miss my dog. School starts Monday, reality will be a pretty swift kick in the ass when we return.
But for now, I have one more day to just fill my lungs with salty air, and feel content.