After a sunny day at the beach, an hour-long walk on the boardwalk, and a night stroll down Lincoln Road in Miami Beach visiting art galleries, I didn’t quite feel like writing.
Maybe that’s what vacation is about—allowing ourselves to pause and take in what’s all around us without the need to share. To sit still for a moment or two, breathe the salty air, and feel grateful for being exactly where I am.
Sometimes words need a rest, too. Let them wander quietly through our thoughts, watching the blue sky, the waves that come and go, the footprints in the sand.
Which would you like best — Blue umbrellas under a big blue sky, Blues all around, or maybe Footprints in the sand, soon to be lost?
But then again, I made a promise to myself to post every Sunday—and last Sunday I broke that promise. So tonight, instead of breaking it once again, I decided to write about my first real vacation in a very long time, because visiting my homeland doesn’t count as a vacation in my books.
Listening to music sung in a foreign language, wrapped in the gentle warm ocean breeze, savoring a glass of Pinot Noir—it’s a reminder that in spite of all the disappointments and regrets, life is good.
The full moon revealed itself to the eye, yet eluded the camera—proof that some moments are meant to be just lived
And maybe that’s enough to write about after all.