It is the last morning of my vacation and I sit here contemplating this past week. We didn't take a trip or travel any place new. It was one of those "staycations" they talk about on the TV and radio.
Could it have been any better? Only if it had been longer.
We moved at our own pace with no expectations. Some days were busy and others slow and quiet. We visited family. We played putt putt and ate ice cream. We hiked and gardened and weeded. We sat and watched hummingbirds feed at the pretty purple flowers. We saw a mama deer and her two fawns play in our yard. We went to a favorite winery and the next day played with our niece. We read books and played cards.
There was more I wanted to do. A sewing project sits untouched on my desk. The barns I hoped to photograph haven't been. The oven is still dirty and the garage is still messy.
But I had time. Maybe not enough, there is never enough. I had time to move, or not move, at my own pace. I wasn't constricted by work schedules and obligations. And that was a perfect vacation.