There's something to be said for the hustle and bustle of each season. The go, go, go isn't always so bad. We move a little faster, are forced to make decisions with confidence (No hems. No haws.) and we often find ourselves becoming a bit more efficient.
Yet, there's still a yearning for slowness and peace. For solitude and connection. For the space to make some time.
A few weeks ago I had an opportunity to lean in to that feeling—that need for time. As I drove away from the stress of life here, I headed there toward what can only be described as a respite. Sure, I had people to see and nephews to hug—going home around the holidays requires you to tick a few very important boxes, after all—but I also had a chance to sit. To think. To breathe. To assess. To wonder. To wander.
When my dad asked what I wanted to do that Tuesday morning, I told him I wanted to say hello to the ocean. So among other visits around town (including a trip to the adorable quilt guild, of which my stepmom is co-president), we did just that. Camera in tow, we drove until we reached the dead end parking lot of the Point St. George Heritage Area. Since we had a fairly clear day, we could see the St. George Reef Lighthouse several miles offshore and had the pleasure of watching a pilot practice touch-and-goes at the adjacent airport.
But most importantly, we got to spend time together in a place that holds meaning for our family. My dad used to fly those tiny airplanes and I remember my papa's huge smile after taking a quick flight up over this exact area with his son.
Years later we would say our goodbyes to both my nana and papa in this place. As always with these things in life, their physical presence has since been washed away, but our memories of them have remained vivid.
Upon returning home to the hustle and the bustle I realized that I could have easily canceled my trip north. I had bowed out of meetings, work piled up a bit, the holidays loomed in the distance and family commitments were patiently waiting for me here. Yet, I would have missed what I needed there had I not made the time.
The trip was a good reminder—one I need every so often—that time matters. Time is just as important as our many, many to-do lists and ever-growing pile of gifts to be wrapped. Time spent can never be returned, exchanged or put on layaway. And thankfully, it's a gift often received with joy and graciousness by all involved.
Here's to making a little time for the good stuff as we close out the year, my friends.