What We Used To Have

I dream about vacations nearly every night right now. I dream about a lot of things right now actually, but it’s the vacations that I always wake up longing for. Perhaps this means I’m wishing for an escape from all of this. Or maybe it just means I want a vacation.

Last year at this time we were in Hawaii, which was arguably one of the best trips of my life, and yet when I allow myself to admit it, I know I still found things to complain about while we were there. Chris and I had our little vacay arguments, as we always do, they were silly and pointless, as they always are. He was mad he had to drive the entire trip, I was mad Black Sand beach was too crowded, the teens next to us had the audacity to play their pop music too loud, and one night we didn’t get the table we wanted at Mama’s Fish House.

CAN YOU IMAGINE?

Can you imagine being on vacation right now, dining at an amazing restaurant on a beach covered in sun bathing sea turtles, Hawaiian music softly playing in the background, and the one thing you’ve found to be upset about is not having “a good table?” What a bunch of assholes we were, or at least me, Chris never complains about a table. I would sit under a table just to be at a restaurant right now, the very worst table, hell I don’t even need a table, just take me to a restaurant and allow me to stand inside of it and I’ll be content.

Allow me to feel some tiny sliver of normalcy of the life I used to take for granted and I shall be content. That’s my promise going forward, I whisper to myself as I sit in bed typing this. Not my own bed, the bed at the cabin where we are riding this out. My other promise to myself is that I’m going to get dressed before noon today. It’s only 10:00, so I’ve got time… And by “dressed,” I mean put on a pair of leggings or sweats I haven’t in the past couple of days.

It’s weird as an introvert to miss crowds, but I do. I miss the buzz of people in a crowded bar on a Friday at 5:00 p.m. I miss farmers markets, even the annoyingly busy ones where strollers always hit the back of my ankles and I’d complain, “it’s impossible to even move in here!” I miss over priced beers at street festivals, over priced lattes at coffee shops, I miss a lot of the things I use to complain about.

I miss. I miss.

I miss all the things.

And I know most of my misses are superficial ones, so many people right now are missing loved ones they haven’t seen in a while, or maybe worse, won’t ever again.

But I keep reminding myself we’re allowed to feel what we feel and miss what we miss, some greater than others.

I think the one bright side to such a dark time is that we’ll all be much more appreciative of the everyday things we’ve temporarily lost and are now longing so bad to have back. Someday things will be back to normal, or dare I say even better than the normal?

Until then I’m going to go sit outside, feel the sunshine on my face, and listen to a playlist called “Hawaiian Dreams.” I’m going to daydream I’m back at Mama’s Fish House, bad table and all.

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