Playing The Field

I’m back from four weeks vacation in the SouthWest and I have just one question to ask. Why am I so different when I’m on vacation? Why is vacation-me so different from regular-me? Who is this desert doppelganger? I’m just a nicer person on vacation. I smile more. I laugh more. I relax. I know I’m nicer to my husband when I’m on vacation. I know that because we have the best sex on our vacations. At home there are endless things to worry about. On vacation, I can barely remember who I am, much less what my problems are.

The guy that pumps the gas and the woman selling ice cream are more interesting when I’m away from home. There is a direct correlation between how many miles from Vancouver we are and my belief that the person I’m speaking to might just turn out to be Don Juan or the psychic that will change my life. I hang on their every word – mining our meaningless chit-chat for a vein of gold.

I use words like ‘howdy’ and ‘okey dokey’. I take pictures of my feet.

With each passing day I let go a bit more. The ties that bind me to my old self in Vancouver become stretched – thinner and thinner – until one day they just let go. Leaving me list-less. The tape loop stops. I forget my endless account of things to do, problems to solve, karmas to burn, destinies to deliver. Life just is. On vacation, I find what is so elusive back home – that slippery thing we reluctantly refer to as ‘the present moment’. I find it and I want to take it home with me.

I’ve been down this road enough times to know that no matter how much I hope and pray – it won’t last once I get back on her turf. We’ll pull up to the house and she’ll be there – waiting for me – frowning and a bit annoyed. This miserly-me is slightly surly because despite the fact that I haven’t worried about anything in weeks – I’m fine. She’ll meet me at the door – list in hand, bills to pay, people to please, and neuroses to nurture.

There was a time that I dreaded coming home to her. But this time was different. Oh, she was there waiting for me all right. But this time, I wasn’t plotting how to kill her. Something was different. I found her kind of cute (although I’d never tell her that). I actually felt kind of grateful for her and maybe a bit sorry for her. Something was different and that something was that I knew that her tenure of tribulation, her dynasty of doubt was coming to an end – maybe not today or tomorrow – but soon.