You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ‘Til It’s Gone…and then Back Again

We had a wonderful relaxing beach vacation last week.  A mix of sun, clouds and rain, just like I like it.  The clouds and the rain give me a “break”…a good excuse to curl up on the sofa with a book and stop going so fast.  Anyway, on our last day on the beach, my dear husband informed me that the trusty umbrella, our protector from the harsh sun’s rays, the umbrella that I am always in charge of carrying (since he is carrying everything else) did not make it home the day before.  Which meant that I had LEFT it, the poor little defenseless umbrella was left to the ravages of the ocean’s waves all night alone.  We scoured the beach house, the dunes, the decks, the stairs in vain…no umbrella.  Meanwhile, I am feeling low and pitiful for myself…not only did I forget the only thing I was in charge of, but the sun was beating down unmercifully and I could practically feel myself burning despite my sunblock.   As I sat in the beach chair, I sent my daughter on one last “scouting” expedition down the beach to see if she saw it.  And lo and behold, there it was…lying in the sand incognito.  We reclaimed/asked the nice man whom it was sitting with if he had found it, and Presto!  He gladly gave it back to us.

I have never been so happy to be sitting under an umbrella.  Which goes to illustrate the song lyric, “You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.”  Of course, as things go, it was cloudy and pouring rain within the hour, but those few minutes were precious!    Here is a picture of our lovely umbrella, in the rain of course, back at the beach house.  This time I was extra careful to bring him home.  🙂  Slainte, Lisa

The Outer Banks

Time Machine

The time between my baby boy being born and his going off to college as an 18 year old young adult has passed as if I was traveling in a time machine.  I was aware of time passing; each day passed at a normal rate of speed, but they seemed to compound into years at an abnormal speed.  Everyone says this, I know; it’s quite the cliche among parents.  But when you’re experiencing it yourself for the first time, it is quite something.  You find yourself smiling and bursting with pride one moment, and crying and trying desperately to hold on in the next.  And since I don’t want my sweet son to think I’m a wimp, I try to hide it alot.  But all in all, I am happy for him, proud of him, and excited for the next chapter in his God-given life.

Here are two pictures, taken in the drawbridge section, beside the same door, of Cahir Castle in Ireland, 2001 and 2009.  And he’s even taller now.  🙂  Slainte, Lisa

Raising the drawbridge in Cahir

Taller than the door at 15

The Return Home

“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.”

-George Moore, Irish poet

Life is ironic sometimes…you feel dissatisfied, restless, yearning to roam somewhere new and just see something different.  You save, you plan, you go to this new place.  You walk around looking at the new buildings, sceneries, faces; moved but sometimes overwhelmed by the sheer amount of newness.  You look for glimpses of familiarity in the faces and language swirling around you, and sometimes you see & hear it and it brings a modicum of comfort.  Could it be?  Do you actually miss home after all this wanting to escape it?  You face the last day of the journey, feeling nostalgic already for the place you are leaving.  But then, you make it home…the familiar bumps in the driveway feel more endearing, the rise of the house in front of you makes you happier than it has in a long time, and the love that you feel for home, for those dear to you that you left behind, becomes very clear and poignant.  You are home, and you are happy.

Slainte, Lisa

Rambles, Plans, Dreams

It doesn’t take much reading between the lines to figure out that I love to travel.  I adore planning out new holidays, pouring over travel books and reviews, searching the internet for the best deals.  I am a frustrated would-be pilot (maybe one day!), so I love the airport/flying part, the thrill of sitting in the airplane seat, feeling the roar of the immense engines as we tear down the runway for lift-off.  I love seeing the new sights, smelling the new smells (well, sometimes)  and trying out new foods.

I found a great passage from Last of the Donkey Pilgrims by Kevin O’Hara that encapsulates many of my thoughts:

” ‘Tis the beauty of travel, isn’t it,” she looked wistfully upon her poor but scenic domain, “seeing things you’d never see if you just kicked about the old place.  And you’ll take it all home with you, won’t you, these memories, and be all the better for it.  Well, be off with your rambling, so, and I’ll keep on with my dreaming.”

“It’s only a half-door you’re standing behind,”  I told her.  “You could easily hop over it.”

“Oh, I know,” she smiled, “but could I ever hop back in again?”

Enjoy your rambles, planning, and dreaming.  Slainte, Lisa