I took a few days to myself and drove out to Palm Springs. My sister was going to be there with a few friends, but I booked a hotel down the road from the house where they were staying and found it to be the perfect arrangement for a tired introvert: a fluffy bed, a spa on site, long days with no plans, and good company for dinner.
Every woman should travel some without their spouse and definitely without their children. That time changes you. Not only to remember who you are outside of those who need you, but also to remember how much you do (or don’t) fit into the life you’ve created. I got three good nights of sleep, the most I’ve had in a row in a long time. I ordered room service, got a massage and a facial, and read an entire book.
On Saturday morning I was packing up my things for the drive back to L.A. and I was wondering to myself if I got what I came for. Theoretically, one should feel a fullness after a good trip, right? But often I feel an emptiness, a nagging that I missed something somehow. This is true if I’m alone, or leaving a blog conference, or traveling across the world. There’s a pressure to have had a revelation, a breakthrough, made the exact right connection to deem the trip “worth it.” But it’s always worth it and never is, in the same breath.
I’m content but slightly off at the end of any trip, when the excitement is done and all that is left is the return home. I’m hovering in that space of time before I strap back on the backpack of motherhood. I’m mentally sorting the things I need to keep sacred and those I want to bring into my daily life. Because when I walk back in the door, I’m greeting by three smiling faces, one a little bigger and wearier than the others. And there is no doubt, as we kiss fresh hellos, that it was worth it.
Check back later today for the details of where I stayed on my little getaway.