Our kids enjoying ice cream on the porch swing.

We are not on vacation.  

It’s the last day of spring and my husband’s off from
work.  The sky is pale blue like fine
china swirled with bits of white.  The
sun has swallowed a week’s worth of humidity and breathes out now a cool breeze
that has me craving a warm cup of coffee.  

There’s a lightness to this day that cannot be pinned to
the weather alone.

Though the sky here is clear, I’m certain pigs are
flying somewhere because everyone in our house – from the eight-year-old on
down to the two-year-old twins – slept in this morning until EIGHT
o’clock.  My husband’s alarm went off at five thirty and mine followed suit
at six, but thankfully we both had the good sense to slap them back into

We all woke loose-limbed and sluggish, TIRED, and the oldest
boy declared as we lolled on the couches, “I’m going to be lazy all day today.”
His copycat brother followed suit announcing without skipping a beat that he was going
to “be a kid all day today.”  Then the
littlest one added his own plan, “Me gonna be an electric man all day today.” 

From there the day unfolds – bowls of cereal, crumbs tracked
from room to room, little projects broken up by more food and moments of play
as we wander the yard and garden, all of us loose still and relaxed.  My daughter and I re-pott the avocado tree,
damaging the roots so that it droops now like a broken-hearted waif standing in the corner of the porch.  On a day like today, though, it seems o.k.
and I believe it will recover.

My husband unpacks the hundreds (and I do mean hundreds) of
screws and bolts and tentatively starts on the new swing set that’s sat,
unassembled, in the garage for weeks. 
Even this, the scattered parts unlabeled, arouses no frustration, we’ll tinker a little with it and maybe with
time it will come together. 

A few weeks ago I told my husband how this new-old house
of ours feels like a vacation rental, so full of newness, surprise and
possibility.  Something in this space,
this time, brings together the elements of rest, play and adventure that form the essential triad of a good vacation.

All of this has got me thinking about vacation – how it
isn’t a place to go or thing to do or, worse, to be taken.  Vacation restores an openness and
ease that’s so often lacking in the pressure of day-to-day life.  This spaciousness softens and restores the human

Vacation descends upon us, if we are willing, in moments unexpected.  The perfect work-day lunch, where last night’s left-overs hit the spot and the company is good and the brief pause between what has been and will be done is fully felt, moments quietly stolen with a good book while the kids are Somewhere Else, each of these can surprise us with their spaciousness – the way that what we need is found in the Here and Now in a way we didn’t believe possible.  

This morning I woke in my own bed and sat on the couch while
vacation unfolded around me – a little bit of lazy, a little bit of play, and a
little bit of adventure, all right here, at home.  

This post is linked with The High Calling for their gathering of Best Vacation Stories.  Click on the link to read more stories about vacations near and far.  

What’s your best vacation place?  Have you ever felt vacation sneak up on you at home? I’d love to hear about it below!

Sustainable Spirituality

Sustainable Spirituality

Design a spiritual life that works for your life. Sign up now to receive my FREE GUIDE explaining the top 5 characteristics of sustainable spirituality.

When you get the FREE guide you are also subscribing to Quiet Lights, my bi-monthly email containing contemplative resources and writing.

Thanks for subscribing! Check your email inbox for a link to download the free gift.