vacation

Some times the best way to come up for air is to get out of town.  Last Sunday we drove across North Carolina to one of our favorite places on earth - The Outer Banks.

The place where we are staying has this picture hanging in the living room.  It is a light house on a rock in the ocean with a man standing in front of it.   Huge waves are breaking all around, with only a thin sliver of light house protecting him.

That's how the last little bit of life has felt. It's been so busy with end of school activities, travel and chores.  My job has just been reduced -in pay and benefits but not yet in hours.  I feel untethered.  Nothing is for sure.  We may move, the future may look very different than we planned.  The tiny sliver of light house may crumble and the waves may get us yet.  That is how it feels anyway.

But this week is vacation.  Sunshine and freedom.   Our vacation rental has a huge, fake stuffed marlin on the mantle.  The chairs are covered in green and orange starfish print.  Paintings on the walls are of colorful crabs.  This house is fun.  It doesn't take itself too seriously.  My bathroom is wallpapered in raspberry and aqua lacy coral patterns.  So not me, but here I love it.  Maybe because I look at it while soaking in a giant bathtub while the sun sets over the marshes.

I have a stack of books.  The best kind of vacation indulgence.  The Longest Ride by Nicholas Sparks for my book club.  Gretchen Rubin's Happier At Home, and Graeme Simsion's The Rosie Project.  But I can't put down The Nesting Place, by Myquillyn Smith that my mom lent me.  The tag line is "It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful." It becomes my mantra this week.

The boys and I wander in a little shop in downtown Manteo and find a local artist selling large wooden fish.  We buy one for father's day, to bring a little whimsy and beach back to Asheville with us.  It reminds me that a good vacation lasts long after you get home.

My parents and I stop by a farmer's market road stand.  We buy a bucket of juicy peaches and a flat of strawberries.  A bag of corn and fresh tomatoes.  Steve fries up some of the fish he and the boys caught this morning.  We crowd around our round table for the best feast of the week.  My parents and Steve's parents laughing together.  My boys getting blonder and browner by the moment.  Beach sand still clinging to my flip flops.   I realize that I am filled with joy and contentment.  The lighthouse may be stronger than it looks.  The waves haven't gotten us yet.