Wednesday, February 9, 2011
While it meant four days of travel (and a couple weeks preparation beforehand) in exchange for five days of paradise, it was worth it. For all the benefits of vacation, certainly; but especially for the renewed perspective I always seem to bring home.
Preparing for the trip was a stark reminder of all I'm responsible for here on the farm. My children, pets, horses and home all needed someone capable to care for them in my absence. I was incredibly grateful to have parents willing to take my girls (and dog) into their home for a week and spoil them all rotten. To have a sister-in-law, an experienced farm-girl in her own right, willing to house (and horse) sit. To have the best-est girlfriend in the whole world willing to be on call and come to the rescue in case of any equine mishap... and to have all of them tell me, "Go, have FUN. We'll be just fine."
I did have fun, once I relaxed and the travel-weariness subsided. (Upon arriving in our room, we dropped our bags, collapsed on the bed, slept an hour, went to dinner, returned to the room and slept twelve more. Heaven.) My mind was almost always back home, however... wondering what my girls were doing or if they were homesick. If the horses were healthy and behaving. If my sister-in-law was enjoying herself at my house or having to shovel too much snow. When I would see something beautiful or of interest, I would make a mental note to tell them all about it, upon my return. And quite often, my husband and I found ourselves talking about our daughters, about how they would enjoy the beach or the plane ride or the sight of the beautiful Caribbean Sea.
Everything about the trip was relaxing, beautiful, luxurious (well, except maybe the security and check-in lines... they always make me feel nervous and claustrophobic, like a steer in a sorting pen). But after a few days, I was ready to return home to my girls and my horses and my dogs and my life.
Even though going home meant a 100-degree drop in outdoor temperature and a return to laundry, chores, cooking and cleaning, this is where my heart is. Yes, it is rather divine to be waited upon by someone who addresses you as "mah-lady"; have fruity, frozen alcoholic concoctions delivered to my lounge chair on the beach; dine elegantly in the evening and afterward sleep like a baby in a giant four-poster bed which cradles you like a newborn... I am so blessed to have the chance to experience it. Better yet, however, was the joy in my daughters' smiles when I walked through my parents' front door. The nickers of the horses when I walked into the barn. The familiarity of my own bed and the comfort of the routine of the life I've created here on my farm.
This is where I am free, where I belong... and knowing that truth in my soul brings more satisfaction than I could ever find elsewhere.
Now if only I could train my children to address me as "mah-lady"....
Its good to be home.