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Days Numbered, Not Spent

7/23/2013

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Recently we took a vacation with my parents and siblings. I tried to make it a real break-- from focusing on the uncertainty surrounding our next potential move, from wondering where my kindergartener will be going to school next month, from e-mail, from Facebook and (quite obviously) from writing.

We rested, we played, we ate, we laughed; I read an entire book, cover to cover (and started another). We tried to slow down our time together, as it is never long enough and always too far between. We drank in these visions of our growing daughters, sheer joy and amazement over their new found abilities to swim in a crystal clear sea, to rescue clams and minnows from untimely deaths, to play miniature golf and to make friends with just about any child, anywhere.

Our girls relished unscheduled time with their aunts, uncles and grandparents. I soaked in being known and accepted, regardless of my choices or moods, by people who know me-- who've always known me-- and choose to love me and my little family. We were so very sad to say good-bye. I think one of the worst parts of living far from family is not knowing the next time you'll see each other.

Daniel had to leave mid-week overnight for work and surprised us by making it up to us with an extra day. Instead of heading home Saturday, as planned, we cashed in some of his (copious) hotel points. We wandered along the Gulf coast, stopping wherever we felt like it. I'm not sure why, but we don't have days like that. It was one of my favorite days the four of us have had (aside from Emerie's embarrassing and attention-grabbing meltdown in a densely populated area in Sandestin. I could've done without that).

Coming home has been a bit of a letdown, for everyone but Emerie, our little homebody. The worries are where we left them, only there are fewer days separating us from decisions, those made for us and those we will make.  We couldn't have been more grateful for this respite, the recharging, and the time together. Time away with our loved ones reminds me that these issues are blips. Our location matters, our decisions matter, but they're not everything. We already have all that we need.

Breathing in, breathing out, the salt in my mouth
Gives me hope that I’ll bleed something worth bleeding out

                                                   --The Lone Bellow, Bleeding Out
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    Christina | Virginia Beach
    Psuedo Yankee, city-loving former working mom of four finds herself home with the kids and transplanted to the somewhat Southern suburbs. Finding her feet while still attempting to harness the power of the passion of her youth for useful good.

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