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Friday, September 6, 2013
I look forward to my family’s annual vacation all year long. In the fall, winter and spring, I dream of long days of reading books, swimming and sightseeing. The closer it comes, the harder it is to wait.
And then, as I’m packing, I ask myself why in the world I want to go through so much trouble to leave my home, which is perfectly nice.
For the first few days, I am homesick. I miss my own bed. I wonder how I will fill the empty hours stretching before me, and I wonder if I will even be speaking to my family by the time we get home, our relationships ruined by a surfeit of togetherness.
And then, around the middle of the week, I start to relax. The vacation rental feels like a real home, my day-to-day life is a distant memory, and suddenly, there’s not enough time left to do all the things I wanted to do. The day we leave, I have to tear myself away, staying until the last moment before checkout time. Sometimes I even cry.
And then it starts all over again. Before I even hit the front door, I start dreaming about next year’s trip.
— Betsy Biesenbach
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