I would like to take this moment to personally apologize to my parents, aunts, and uncles for the most extreme and ridiculous behavior that I (and my cousins, though I do not presume to apologize for them) displayed on the first day of our annual vacation, as tradition, like clockwork.

Just as all the parents were settling in to the summer beach house, decompressing from their work responsibilities, unplugging and unpacking, or not unpacking, mostly just sitting in the sun or in the shade and being but not doing,

we were traipsing through the house demanding Family Fun Day.

“Please can we go to Myrtle Beach?
Please can we go to the water park today?
Please can we go miniature golfing?
Please. There is nothing to do on this vast expanse of sand and ocean. I’m bored. I’ll sit inside and watch Nickelodeon. Or Golden Girls. Until you give me something better to do.”

Or, the tradition I’m sure they found most charming and persuasive: when the whole slew of us paraded through the house, banging pots and pans, chanting, “Fam! Lee! Fun! Fam! Lee! Fun!”

I am sincerely and deeply sorry.

Because now, twenty years later, here I sit at this most gracious gift of a vacation, my feet on the mosaic coffe table, the sun spilling in a checkered print through the pergola of this writing cabana, as I have so named it. I am in my swimsuit and my cover up that is really more of a sundress, and while other adults have unpacked, I most certainly have not.

For some, unpacking is the measure of settling in, of beginning the vacation. For me, a girl who rarely puts laundry away at home, it represents a task I won’t be doing until I am good and ready. So it’s entirely possible that my suitcase will remain packed and my summer clothes will remain wrinkled. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Meanwhile, my children are asking if we can go to LegoLand today, or if we may go to the beach, or if I will please fix them pancakes, or at the very least could they have permission to purchase a new game on their ipods.

No, no, no, and no. And also no.

Little men, did you see me drinking my coffee by the infinity pool, with my feet swinging over into the edge of the most perfectly temperatured water? That is what today will look like. The only thing that will be my beverage of choice and perhaps the veneer of sunscreen on my Colorado arms and legs.

I love you. Leave me alone.




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