Back to Reality

I just spent a week in paradise. I wasn’t expecting to love cruising the Caribbean as much as I did, but as I flew on an airplane back across the ocean to Boston where the forecast was 20 degrees with wind and snow, I realized that I could live on the Serenade of the Seas for the rest of my life and never look back. I loved it! I miss the gentle rocking of the ship; I miss the warm, balmy air, the view of the ocean over our balcony, swimming in the sea. I miss docking at a new island every morning and I certainly miss never having to cook and clean. I miss my family. (Meaning the Reeves—I didn’t lose my children or something)(well, I almost lost #1 in Customs, but I guess it would be hard to actually lose a child in Customs, considering you can’t get out without a passport, but it was still scary.)


I even miss the weird things. Like I’m still rocking every once in a while, and instead of getting annoyed at my dizziness, I get nostalgic for the evening activities. I took the kids to this magic show one night. It was crazy! And the magicians were…a little gross, and to see them eating breakfast at the Windjammer Buffet minus the sequin-muscle-bearing-shirt-type-thing the next morning was a little unsettling. But I’d rather go through that awkward feeling again than have to sweep the stupid kitchen for the fourth time in two days. I’d settle for telling the 147th woman in St. Maartin, “No thanks. No braids today,” than have to think of what to make for breakfast, lunch and dinner.



Oh, well. Soon the tan on my arms will be faded and the blisters on my right ear will be healed and I’ll try to think about why I love my antique house even though it’s across the country from my parents and 3 sisters and 1 brother and my awesome brothers-in-law and fun little nieces and nephews. I’ll put on my vacation clothes and drive the kids to school in the snow and try to get my life organized. Really. I’ll be fine. Really.

Truly.