Getting Away

It’s 3am at the beach, and I can’t sleep. Sometimes, I wake up at these crazy hours and think, “Well, I guess that’s it for the sleeping now.” It used to be an every night thing, but I have been better about it for the past year or so. But I never sleep well when I’m not at home. I opened my eyes a little while ago and knew I was done. Unlike my house, a hotel leaves little space for wandering around at night, even in this upgraded suite where the girls have a cool bed that pulls down from the wall. I snuck out to the patio to watch the ocean. It’s a little weird being almost the only person I can see. There was a couple that wandered by, and then another with a flashlight. The city empties the trash and recycling bins on the beach in the middle of the night; did you know that? Part of me was tempted to walk down there and sit in the sand, but even in this wide open space, I am scared of the dark. Although it is windy and chilly, and the waves crashing are loud against this silence, I am soaking it up.

I am not actually a good traveler. The idea of visiting some place new always seems amazing. I love visiting new spots and seeing new things. But getting there is usually tough. Travel makes me anxious. The traffic scares me, driving in new places scares me. I worry incessantly about parking and getting lost. I always forget something important, so there is undoubtedly a trip to Target, which is exactly where I don’t want to be on vacation. After a few days in a hotel, no matter how nice it is, I am ready to be home. And maybe that’s the point of getting away. I usually feel as though I am climbing out of my own skin, just existing in my own little world. The monotony is not lost on me. It makes me crazy. But getting away for a few days makes me appreciate my boring little life just a bit more. It makes me thankful for sleeping in my own bed. I appreciate having those extra doggy snuggles while I drink coffee on the couch before work. Coming home from a trip makes me happy to be in my own world again, which is probably why I like it so much. That’s probably a little backward, but what can I say?

I hated the beach as a child. It was so commercial (still is!), and I didn’t like the water or the sand or the crowds. Those things still aren’t my favorite, but my girls love them. We spent a couple of hours playing on the beach yesterday, and the best part for me was watching the twins navigate the building of a sandcastle. This was their first trip to the ocean, so it was all completely new. Bella was completely unafraid of the surf. She got so close to the water, waiting patiently for the water to fill her bucket. Livvy didn’t want to walk across the sharp shells, so she stayed back, covering her feet with sand and singing a song that she was making up about the process which just cracked me up. I brought a book that I barely opened. I was too busy watching everything else. The pigeons and seagulls prancing on the ground fearlessly near our towels. The helicopters and the planes that randomly flew over the water. The people searching for the perfect shells to take home. The air was salty and the wind was crazy, but it all made me so happy to be in the sand, and I wondered why I didn’t love this as a kid, too.

Tomorrow, we will drive to Georgia to spend a couple of days in Savannah. Kylie has wanted to visit there for a long time, and it was supposed to be her 17th birthday present. Now, a year later, we are comfortable enough to make the trip. I wish that I had taken more trips with her when she was younger. Our quick getaways were always my favorite, but I always worried too much instead of just making it happen. Too much planning. Too much anxiety about the drive and the hotel. I was kind of proud of myself this time around. We had the opportunity, and I just booked the rooms and we went. Being spontaneous is foreign to me, but sometimes I surprise even myself with the art of it. I think that turning 40 has made me try to take advantage of these things a bit more. Like everyone else, I have so many regrets from my thirties, and I just don’t want that mess clouding my mind anymore. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore and wait for life to happen to me.